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Teardrops and Waterfalls
An angry little cloud dared to
break away from the relative
masses then found itself stranded
in mid-air high above a winding
river and its waterfalls.
It was too late for the scared little
cloud to catch up with the others
so it parked itself and tried to cry
another river, but not so much
as a single tear would welter up to
its eyes.
It groaned and strained and clapped
its thunder to produce a tear and
after holding its breath it started to
turn blue. Dark, dark ominous blue.
It had but a little time to do what it
was trying to do. Sunshine was
beginning to filter through.
Only one solitary tear was it able
to muster down. Then the angry
little cloud began to lose its surly little
frown. It slowly turned into a rain drop
as it made its journey to the ground.
The little cloud vanished as it knew
one day it would; however, the little tear
remained. That one little drop was
all the angry little cloud could rain.
It teetered to and fro, up and down,
high in the evening sky in an un-
dulating vein - this little cloud's
tear drop which had turned into
a drop of rain.
It was the only thing left of the
angry little cloud. The spirit of
its essence was slowly falling to the
ground.
There was one last chance, perhaps,
to renew itself again by aiming
at the waterfalls, this little tear
which turned into a drop of rain.
It kept falling...
falling...
falling...
Splash!
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