Creak of the door,
Wind blows me away,
Gently brushing the hair out of my face.
A drawn sky meets my gaze,
And the cool night welcomes my voice,
Muffled and muted,
Visualized in this therapeutic painting.
A strange and unfamiliar street,
I feel the peace at first sight.
Blowing gently aside the tall tree leaves,
The willow weeps in the wind.
The sky is still,
Dark blue and Grey,
The torrent, celestial clouds,
Stretching gloriously over the gloom.
Lightening, thunder,
And a neat, fresh scent.
It's coming down heavy,
Raining cats and dogs into the bleak night.
A sheet of refreshing transparence,,
Flooding the streets and soaking me through to the bone.
As cold as it as,
I feel only warmth, satisfied and comfy.
It won't last for long,
Cherish these storms-
This moisture is far better than burning summer days.
Hiding just below my porch,
The wind freezing me to the steps,
Watching the plants and flowers drown,
I look down in pity,
Lonesome sigh,
But that season's gone regardless.
Wading through the sidewalk streams,
Lifting pant legs just above the deep,
I stride back to dryer land.
Inside, the downpour still hums its lullaby,
Wrapped in puffy blankets,
I hazily fall into sleep,
Accompanied by lovely blessings and feelings of safety.
The storm will wash away these impurities,
Sweet, sweet dreams,
On such a night,
Your fears and demons won't consume you.
I certainly do.