The Chimney

As a kid I used to think,

That there might be a world,

Where there would be an actual factory,

That makes clouds,

White as snow,

And colourful as the rainbow,

With a chimney that lets the clouds out in the sky,

Which eventually float freely towards me,

In shapes they want to be.

Now, I know better I think,

As the planet is dying,

With the kid in me,

Imagining worlds,

Better than we live in.