Expect colder temperatures tomorrow,
with breezes and occasional gusts
as clouds roll into the valley.
said in harsh tones.
Rumblings of cold and dampness
chase away the songbirds at dawn
and leave a heaviness in the air,
before a pattern of
droplets on the grey sidewalk.
Yet, for all their blustering,
the clouds will simply move
towards the horizon,
leaving with a windward song
of whistling reeds,
and percussive accent.
The remains are of a movement
with felled limbs,
just scattered, silent instruments
of a raucous symphony
and the players have left the stage
for other venues.
Expect this change tomorrow
with songs both loud and slow,
the almanac tells me so.
this poem sang to me … well done.
Thanks for visiting, and for your feedback.
A lyrical poem. Thoroughly enjoyed it.
Thanks for your comment.
A well written metaphor on a unfortunately very common scene within a (possibly) bad relationship. I liked how you chosed the words. Great write.