The sun comes out
Behind the clouds
Birds, cheeping, peeping
Sunlight seeping
Through the crack in this dark old shack.
Beams of warmth
Sing melodies to my cold heart
I hear the whispering winds groan and moan
Through the crack in this dark old shack.
Bright rays turn
To dull and bland hues
Through the patched roof
With dust showering down
Through the crack in this dark old shack.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I told you it was depressing! I warned you, YOU were the one reading it the first place, jeez. Anywho, this is another poem I made at the summer camp (most of them will be, just saying). So yeah.
