My mother is a cloud

by Laura Kabbabe (8D Orange) My mothers cuddles are heavens pillows, Soft like white beds of cotton, That are nestled atop the skies. My mothers hair flows lightly like the Nile River, Making it very wispy, Just like individual lonely wandering clouds. My mothers anger evaporates the water, Covering my grinning sun with her dreary grey shadow, Altering our landscape into darkness by malicious clouds. My mothers feelings are of a fragile bird, Sometimes shedding raindrops, Making the skies grieve with tender sorrow. My mothers smile bursts a rainbow in the sky, Lightening the sky brightly like strobe lights Scattering a lot of happy newly made warm cotton candy. My mothers organization keeps everything tidy and white, Gliding through the skies moving lightly and gently, Sorting things out in the sky as she plays hide and seek with the sun. My mother is a cloud, Having mood swings all the time, With twists and turns, peace and joy, White Sheep, White sheep, what is she up to now?