THE CLOUDS
THE CLOUDS
By Janice N. Chapman
(C) 1988 All Rights Reserved
I watch the clouds up in the sky
As each of them go floating by.
Some are white and their linings bright,
While others are dark as shades of night.
Some seem to have a picture, and as I stare,
There seem to be whole towns in those clouds up there.
And I wonder, Lord, when I pass away,
Will I live in one of those villages someday?
Sometimes there are people for me to see,
And sometimes animals present themselves for me to see.
When I get to the place for me You have prepared,
Will I be among those upon whom I stared?
When I become an Angel and get my wings,
Will I be assigned one of those white fluffy things?
Will I have a cloud to call my bed. . .
Or just a piece of a cloud on which to lay my head?
Or will a cloud be the chair from which I’ll stare
At those live human beings looking at me from down there?
