I leaned a ladder on a passing cloud
And climbed up past the step that says STOP HERE
To find myself among a happy crowd
Of folks who like their weather partly clear

I didn’t see the number on the plaque
They’d hung above the rainbow-colored bar
But judging by the populace’s lack
Of sadness it was 7 or above

I would have liked to stay to see the sights
But when the breeze kicked up I had to go
In case my ladder toppled from the heights
(I hadn’t braced it very well below)

The ladder cops were waiting at the base
To write me up for blowing past their STOP
But when they saw the bliss upon my face
They clearly wished that they’d gone to the top

The ladder’s in the rafters of my shed
They made me promise that I’d let it be
But if again I got it in my head
To go cloud-climbing…could they come with me?

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