Rains of Winter
Rains of winter are often tiring
As well as relentlessly unending.
Our poet finds them uninspiring.
She regrets hours she has been spending
On poetry, tiring and unending.
She tries to hit a lighter note
By turning to reading of the bards.
Comparing them to what she wrote
Is a swift turning of the cards.
She wishes she wrote like the bards.
The reading brightens somber mood,
And brings sunshine into the room.
Her own lines now are looking good.
She has shaken off the clouds of gloom.
Gone, somber mood and clouds of gloom
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