The soft breeze picks up my hair then drops it
as dark clouds come rolling through the sky.
Rippled in gray, the world becomes less lit
as though the heavens above thought to cry.
But don't weep for us now, it's beautiful.
There is nothing so glorious as dust!
The smile on my face is not dutiful—
this is joy as the wind begins to gust!
Something inside me loves the dissonance:
the broken sun runs away, reflecting
the desperate gasping for deliverance.
A return to the day we're expecting.
The rain, the wind, all mutely testify
to each bright day suddenly gone awry.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
The soft breeze picks up my hair then drops it
as dark clouds come rolling through the sky.
Rippled in gray, the world becomes less lit
as though the heavens above thought to cry.
But don't weep for us now, it's beautiful.
There is nothing so glorious as dust!
The smile on my face is not dutiful—
this is joy as the wind begins to gust!
Something inside me loves the dissonance:
the broken sun runs away, reflecting
the desperate gasping for deliverance.
A return to the day we're expecting.
The rain, the wind, all mutely testify
to each bright day suddenly gone awry.
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