In wake of evening tempest’s dying cry,
A flower field sways in the passing rain,
Battered yet safe, they still pose tall and proud,
Petals glisten, vivid colors appear.
Raindrops bead with the sun’s tender return
Blossoms raise after the rainy onslaught,
Their necks stand firm, no sign of the mad wind,
The warm light of the sun breaks through the clouds.
As nature’s beauty spreads, no signs of gray
Vibrant colors arrive, painting the ground,
With sun, glowing flowers show their rebirth;
New days and breaking dawn, the storm unseen.
The storm’s wrath now a memory sure past,
A gentle breeze, flowers sway gracefully.
The field full of life, laughing and playing,
Perhaps a beacon to a hidden world.
The sunrise glimmers, twinkling on droplets.
A warm embrace buries the fierce storm deep,
From nature’s now dead rage, we shall arise
Hope springs anew in the blossoming light.
ABOUT
A dreamer with paint-stained hands. 23 years old on the east coast.
Moonbow Magazine 