When I awoke, there was fresh cold air
From the storm during the night.
Gray light streamed through the open blinds
And I decided to look through the window.
The garden spilled out below:
Purple, yellow, pink and red flowers tumbled,
Not quite buried by the vines and the green, and
Silver raindrops glittered on the leaves.
It was very quiet but for the crickets and songbirds.
Outside the fenced garden there were red brick buildings
Which bled into the neighborhood, where there hung
Clotheslines with rainbow clothes.
Inside the room a potted plant touched the ceiling,
Its leafy branches making elaborate and twisted shapes,
Their creeping tendrils trembled with the blinds.
The clouds had left the world a wonder.
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
