my heart follows the rhythm
of the bass of the storm
the wind howls with anger—
an anger so powerful,
it could destroy a whole town
the lightning strikes
with a sound so jarring and so sudden—
a forte so instant, it seems impossible
that it was almost pianissimo just seconds before
the storm begins to decrescendo,
the trees now swaying to a calm beat—
one that my heart can follow with ease—
and the world is back to its usual piano
YOU ARE READING
growing seeds from wilted roses
Poetrydear reader, my friend, please be gentle for you are reading pieces of my heart written onto these pages for your eyes to read and for your heart to feel.
