Statuesque

Few clouds couldn't find place in heaven,
So they made their adobe in thou eyes.
They posses the serenity of year's first rain,
A mystic thrall that humans defies. 

The hark of winter nights with flow of a brook,
The eternal shine of sun kissed snow.
The calmness that brings solace to a soul,
And yet they have the mischief of a wild doe. 

Mesmerized and lost in the depth,
An everlasting captivation that persists.
All I do now is wonder in awe,
That something so magical can really exists.