Floating high and above,
Silence of a flying dove,
Flavor of sweet clove,
Popped it goes, gone its love.
Emerging one by one,
Just like the rising sun,
Times of joy and fun,
Left it was, feeling undone.
Drifting along the gentle wind,
Oh, the air so fresh and clean,
Encapsulated, flying without fin,
Wandered off, nothing to lean.
Submerging as weight decreases,
Still and calm, its' color pleases,
Down they land, journey ceases,
Walked away, left breathless.
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