Letters to the Sun

September Spring

Under the dusk of the clouds, all is grey and dead.
No memory of life or green that once graced the vales remains.
Flowers, drowned by falling rain, bend wilting toward the earth.
Their petals having long forgotten the suns golden embrace.
A perennial storm has hidden the sun, blocking its warmth and beauty. Stopping it from falling on the earth's cold barren face.
The storm was always hopeless, clouds thirty miles thick. No matter how bright the sun, never more than a glimmer escaped.
The flowers deprived of light, stopped looking up to the sky.
They bent their withered crowns, submitting to the dark.
The once proud stems, no longer strong, now lived in a defeated slouch.
On a cold dreary day in September, the flowers felt a long awaited touch.
A single ray of sunlight, pierced the clouds.
Little more than a gentle caress, but enough to liven the leaves.
Color slowly returning to the dead and broken trees.
The ray grew into a beam, the beam split the shrouds. Slowly tearing apart, the once prevailing clouds.
Through holes in the cover once perfect, blue skies once more can be seen.
Blue above, green below, bedecked in a gorgeous sheen.
Before stagnant and morose, now life as far as can see.
The sun is shredding the clouds, the light is almost blinding.
As the clouds from sunlight are fleeing, they leave their parting gifts.
One last storm on the horizon, one final downfall hits.
But the sun is shining through it, keeping me warm, safe, and sound. For the rain only brings out the Beauty, that now can be seen from the ground.
As the clouds flee from my vision, I turn my face up to the rain.
Light so warm and bright, I feel Im going insane.
As the clouds bumble and broil, one final truth i perceive: even if the storms come back, my sunshine will never leave.