Calling from Hawaii, the clouds paint the sky, Their messages carried, on the winds that fly. The palm trees sway, on the greens of the course, And listen to the call, that echoes with force.
The sky is painted with shades of gray As dark clouds loom and threaten to fray But in the midst of the storm's caress A glimmer of hope, a light to impress
From high above, the clouds descend, Like a whisper from a long lost friend. They dance across, the evening sky, In a symphony of whispers, passing by.
Up high in the sky, so free and so fair, The clouds dance and float, without a care. Their beauty and grace, a sight to behold, Their whispers so soft, never growing old.
Whispering to the mountains, the clouds drift on by, Their messages carried, on the winds that sigh. The mountains stand tall, their peaks reaching high, And listen to the whispers, that dance in the sky.
Whispering to the sea, the clouds come and go, Their messages carried, by the winds that blow. The waves rise and fall, with the rhythm of the tide, And listen to the whispers, that dance on their side.