He came like the rain
Gloomy and dark
But at the same time,
Lulling and astoundingly peaceful
She soaked it all up
Like a dry, barren, desert land
Begging, "more!"
But much like the summer
The winter, fall, and spring,
The rain was just a season
A season to give
The yearning desert a taste
Just a small taste
For the storm that will come
So patiently she will wait
Until the next season of rain
And maybe,
It will be the storm she's been waiting for
YOU ARE READING
In These Pages
Poetry"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings; it takes its origin from emotions recollected in tranquility." -William Wordsworth An amateur collection of my dark poetry, spoken word, and deep late-night thoughts. ***{ONG...
