When I was younger, 

I thought that clouds must be like cotton

White and fluffy and warm

Maybe bouncy like sky-high trampolines

I'd lay back and pick out shapes

And dream of soaring among them

But now I know that clouds are not cotton

I will never bounce upon them

They are clumps of water

That collect the sorrows of the earth

Until they are so heavy that they cry. 

I think that I have evolved

With my knowledge of clouds;

Once light, fluffy, dreamy

Now heavy with sorrow and unshed tears.