Surrounded by clouds amidst a blue sky,

A harsh wind whips puffs of white off the nimbus,

Which tumble and somersault in the air carelessly.

I look upon my bare feet, half submerged in the pillowy mass,

And remember a faint memory of the grass between my toes.

I dream of being bored wasting away time on a beach again,

As things were so long ago —

Anything to distract me from how things have become.

The only thing better than a perfect world

Is an imperfect world with another.

I look dejectedly to either side, once again realizing my solitude.