Like standing in the rain on New Year’s Eve.
Like picturing the perfect year ahead.
Like the rain brought something hard to believe.
Like a reality that I would dread.

Like the rain falling so hard that it stings.
Like the rain has also blurred my vision.
Like I question my perception of things.
Like each day demands a new decision.

Like the rainfall forms my very own tears.
Like the colours no longer want to be.
Like the darkening clouds support my fears.
Like all that mattered was washed out to sea.

Like a break in the clouds allows in light.
Like a familiar voice I can hear.
Like a missing piece bravely puts things right.
Like reconnecting with someone held dear.

(C) Dean G. Parsons. 2020.

No responses yet

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: