A 15-Liner Prose
Cotton ball clouds float low and separate.
Can be seen everywhere.
Can’t be heard chatting with each other.
“When should we get together to work on the new song?”
“How about later this evening? The sun’s out now and everyone can see us.”
“Right, we need to practice in secret until we get real good.”
“Yeah, we have to get the beat more organized; the drummers still aren’t working together.”
“And the lightening twirlers keep dropping their bolts.”
Sure enough, close to dusk the cotton balls furtively gather closer and closer.
Out of the blue they become the group called The Cloud Band.
Famous the world over.
The best heavy metal group ever.
Lots of noise, lots of banging, deep bass drums and bass guitars, fireworks.
Electrical shows that are out of this world.
Practicing at every chance, yet never getting totally in-sync.