- Books, Literature, and Writing
The wind whistles words untrue,
As if everything is the same.
But the echo from the thunder above,
All but screams your name.
It rushes through the branches,
Whispering as the leaves fall.
As my face turns up to watch the clouds,
I begin to hear its' call.
The sky grows ever darker,
As the rain drops grace my cheak.
Like a distraught kiss goodbye,
So depressing and yet so sweet.
A blast of lightning from the storm,
Reveals something sad but true.
For from the radiance of its' light,
These tears begin to show through.
This angry storm continues on,
And slowly I walk by.
Painfully enjoying every minute of this.
As if I ever wanted to say goodbye.