The sun doesn't show again,
just gray skies.
Rain falls,
forming puddles,
on the ground.
Wind blows heavily,
shaking the trees.
Lightning flashing,
illuminating the sky.
Thunder booming,
louder than a bomb.
The sun has never,
shown itself here.
And though I know it won't,
I hope it will.
These are my days,
now that you're gone.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Garden
PoetryA book of poems. Not really a poetic person, but I occasionally write some. [This is brought over from my @JesseSerene account. I'm combining it all with this.] [Cover found here: http://ukka.co/pics/mystical-forest-the-netherlands/]
