by Lauren Huyser

Rain falls from the pools of blue.
A storm swallowing thought.
She trembles.

The beat is weary.

Gone are the singing birds.
The sun within dying out.
She gasps.

The beat is weary.

The grass whips from the howling wind.
Disarray, turmoil, chaos.
She weeps.

The beat is weary.

It stops.

Warmth extends from the outermost.
Calming are the flowers growing.
He embraces.

The beat is weary.

Humble light pierces the clouds.
A gaze finds inner beauty.
He loves.

The beat is strong.