Every port eventually sees a storm
even cozy harbors tucked away
opposing fronts are always bound to form
and fill the sky with swirling clouds of gray
that promise to unleash torrential tides
obliterating settlements of clay
until the heavens wrath at last subsides
and everything that's soaked begins to warm
because the fickle sun no longer hides.
Are You Reading Me?
4 comments:
Life is exactly that isn't it. A roller coaster ride full of ups and downs and never plain sailing. If it is, we must live a very boring life and, we poets are always the worst for wear because, most of us tend to wear our hearts on our sleeve.
Nicely said Bob!
powerful expressions.
Thanks dreamer and taylor!
yes, storms do wreack havoc, nice that you put a positive spin at the end, though a tad "bitter" possibly "the fickle sun"
thanks for the visit, happy gooseberry day! :)
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