“Storm Clouds” by Karl Nordström [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

the storm clouds grey dense with the coming rain
sweeping aside debris in front with a storied layer
flooding the creeks, the streets washing clean
borne by a wind that twists and snarls sounds
bravely we trudge on listening to the wheels sing
the rails hold steady a guiding thread of strength
amidst the terrors and fears that destiny has drawn
one must steel one’s heart when adversity pounces
bending like the willow at a wild storm’s high passion
bow and than awaken when the laden clouds leave

do look and see the hand offered to grasp tight
at all things that frighten in the dark of night
with finger pointed to the sunlight that comes
in the mists of the early morning ever warming
with the scents of spring arising from the fields
lawns well kept gardens budding with florettes
a visual orchestra of sights to delight once again
after the passing of the darkened world of storm
for pass those do as time does chime it’s due hour

whisper those words again to me that I might hear once
in the hush of the night before sleep and dreams take me
wandering off into a world bright with promises of light
ease from daily cares and woes, beset brought anew
your touch does soothe, ease the aches chase shadows
back into the dark corners whence they sprang large
barren are the times that passed since the hills sang
the summer solticise, the winter’s eve, bringing spring

yet I wait to see you

Categories: Poetry