When you're gone my mood turns sour
And I wither every hour
Like a little sun-parched flower,
But when you're back you make it rain
YOU ARE READING
Into the Depths of Despair
Poetry"I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind. At these times, I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and...
Rain
When you're gone my mood turns sour
And I wither every hour
Like a little sun-parched flower,
But when you're back you make it rain
