The skies are blue above me now
There is no threat of rain
The rose’s bloom a lovely scent
As I cry in torturous pain
The wounds unseen hidden well
Great gashes upon my soul
Can they heal? Only time will tell
Do pieces still make a whole?

I’ve been scorched by the desert sun
A desiccant has become my days
A dried-out husk of what once was
Can be seen in the mirror’s gaze
The skies are blue above me now
But I surely do miss the rain
Some moisture might help somehow
But who am I to complain?

07/23/2019

Posted on 07/23/2019
Copyright © 2024 Brian Francis