Drops of pouring rain hitting my forehead,
my sudden comeback,
while fast cars drive by on the fast lane.
A far away friend,
a missed answer,
numbers I don’t remember.
A regret digging in my soul.
Can you hear my call?
This hurt I’m going through,
it’s a glimpse of moonshine through the wet ground.
Snowflakes flying in the twilight,
they’re tapping against my skin,
while a wistful silence reigns
on the white-covered countryside.
The shadows of the night gather in the suburbs,
and I take your side,
I take up the gauntlet,
to find a flickering light through the grimmest darkness.
I won’t bide my time, waiting for the sun to come,
I will shovel in the snow,
till I see the sun rays cutting through,
warming up my weak, pale and thirsty skin.
Pubblicato il 05/02/2015, in Free Flow, Poetry con tag call, hope, Night, pouring rain, rain, sadness, shadows, shoveling, snow, strength, teardrops, twilight, weather, words, writing. Aggiungi il permalink ai segnalibri. Lascia un commento.