Bad Weather
The air's heavy with hateful wordsAnd promises asunder
Thick with anger and cloying grief
Like the after-burn of thunder
And though the lash be lightning-quick,
The days bring no relief
And though the echoes were heard,
The percussion all too brief,
The world cares not a lick
For the storm weathered by one,
Rain-ravaged and gale-battered -
Alone to await the sun
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.