Sky

A simile poem about how I view the sky as.

The sky is like a baby.
His favorite toy is a
bright yellow ball he calls “the sun”.
Though when he has bath time,
and his favorite toy is
hidden among the soap
suds he calls “clouds”,
he starts to cry.
Sometimes he even has tantrums,
making loud noises and
throwing yellow-white
lightning-shaped toys.
At night, he closes his eyes
as his bright yellow ball
is placed in his toy chest.
He sleeps in a blanket of stars;
the moon, his night light.