The quiet after the storm
When everything is a clean dull grey
When the rain starts to fall
Less like a river
And more like a trickle over rocks.
When the storm clouds are stirred away
And just small wisps remain
That only slightly blemish
The otherwise perfect sky
And weep tiny drops mournfulness.
When the world is perpetually muted
And no one feels anything but numb
When the most despondent of waters
Spills over the edges
Of the fragile green pools of your eyes.
YOU ARE READING
31 Days Of Imagination (Poetry)
PoetryI set myself a challenge for this month to write a new thing every day. This is the outcome, I hope you like it. I will be adding stuff as I go along. NOTE- PLEASE DON'T JUST READ THE FIRST POEM IN THIS SERIES, MAYBE CHOOSE ONE AT RANDOM! :)
