Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
The grey clouds shift and swirl above my head,
slowly, almost imperceptibly getting darker;
as if anger has forced a flush of colour to their cheeks.
I crane my neck, searching for the transformation
of anger to grief; for the tears to pour out,
to rain down on those of us below that don't mind
being a shoulder to lean on.

(C) 23/6/14
Courtney L
courtney
Written by
courtney
Please log in to view and add comments on poems