Echoes of Hard Times

I felt it like the storm I called it my trying times During my dying time. In rear times. But the moon looked at me with pity As the Sun wished it could dry my tears By shining so brightly. My pain wrapped itself around me Like a blanket around a suckling child Without her mother. Although the stars watched over me But couldn’t help with an antidote For my disease. I slept so calmly but still dancing to the tunes coming from the forest of my sorrows like thorns. I felt the hotness of those tears As they trickle down my chin Without permission. With both hands I tabled my problems To the one above, for I know the storm Would soon be over.