...clouds like cotton ball candy, thick and warm and pink, thrown into the sky but falling sideways. It's easy to imagine that they taste sweet - like those little kids' vitamins that are shaped like, but never to the scale of, actual dinosaurs.
That's one of the best things about them - imagining that something so big can be grasped and defined by you. So here and there you employ a star or three to become the bright little punctuation marks that turn the soft pink sentences into a huge fantastic floating poem, which only you could have written.
Yet finally, there is the soft shock of a warm breeze that rolls up and around and through everything towards you - a lover with a foreign dictionary encroaching your position, perhaps - inspiring all the trees to applaud a you that you've never considered.