Sometimes
I think of our love
As a cloud.

Our cloud can be painted across the sky
In gentle wisps.
Warm bright sunlight shining through.

Our cloud can be bold and bright
Like the pale blue sky that
Surrounds them.

Our cloud can be a blanket
Which allows no sunshine in
Yet I still feel warm and safe.

Our cloud can be cold
Dark
Angry
Filling with rain; rage.
Filling and filling
Until it can't hold anymore.
Then...

A furious storm bursts from our cloud
And rain pours from the livid sky
Then sudden bolts of lightning
Are followed by roaring thunder

...The last raindrop falls...

The skies slowly clear
And our cloud
Starts its journey
                                   *again