Sunday, August 9, 2009

storm

gathering storm clouds to the west
indicative of our next conversation
grumbling thunder in your voice
quick dashes of blinding light
hint in your eyes as you speak
I can see it growing on your face
the dark mood and greying colour
rising to your cheeks puffing out
attempting to keep it checked
but the rain will come erupting
in a moment when the weight
grows upon you and it is too much
to hold back the container cracks
wide open cry for me your tears

© 9 August 2009
Cynthia Ryder
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