Excitement dancing in my heart,
A flutter, a butterfly, a gentle spark.
For giving and getting, it's just the start.
Of forgiving and forgetting until I'm left in the dark.
The season of snow, so white, so pure.
It's here at last, but not forever.
The gifts will vanish in time, I'm sure.
The real present is to keep loving, like we were.
For soon the tree will be all bare,
The presents gone like they were never even there.
Be sure to be kind, and love, and care.
Because that's what matters, that's what's fair.
At last hold on to my true words,
Remember them, as they were.
Keep in mind what you have heard.
The gift is you, and that I'm sure.
YOU ARE READING
Rain Clouds
PoetrySimple poems, each with a story just behind them. ••• This book will be updated whenever I write a new poem worth posting. I draw inspiration either from my own complicated emotions, or sometimes even stories I've created in my mind. I suppose only...
