The Pitter-Patter of Drops
The pitter-patter of drops drum
to the beat of a broken heart.
As tears supply the rain and glum,
the pitter-patter of drops drum.
And we fear there is more to come,
waiting for the sunshine to start.
The pitter-patter of drops drum
to the beat of a broken heart.
Waiting for the sunshine to start,
laughter can no longer be heard.
We sense the mood gray clouds impart,
waiting for the sunshine to start.
And as our smiles slowly depart,
we share the gloom without a word.
Waiting for the sunshine to start,
laughter can no longer be heard.
We share the gloom without a word,
watching the trees sway in the breeze.
Tears, ensuring our views are blurred,
we share the gloom without a word.
And the softest sound ever heard
morphs into silence, of unease.
We share the gloom without a word,
watching the trees sway in the breeze.
(Intertwining Triolet)
1/22/2015
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
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