Still Is the Rainstorm
Into the evanescing night
Floats hope, now restrained to a dream
Within the edges which incite
Tales clinging unto the extreme :
Russet of summer, ebb of tide
Blows whispers as rainstorm nears
Its last heaving when moons provide,
A bright glint reflecting my tears.
Although long my amble on hills
Time does bestow my earnest bid,
To forgive, a strife from love's chills
Allowing mist to end tight grid--
Old stories drown under seafloor
Through August , warm the hues blending...
For magical is the beam ashore
My heart at peace ...never-ending.
Brian Strand Late Jan 2019 Contest
Not entered in any challenge
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment