There is a dark cloud
floating over her shoulder,
but that is not rain
running down her face.
She is a tired soul
with ears that are bare
and sore from the Thunder
screaming word-like daggers.
Worn to the bone,
the wind rips away
her smooth skin shield
that she hid behind.
But the sun will kiss you yet again,
whipping the rain from your face
and covering your ears.
The Sun will be your shield
when he arises.