Posted in Denmark, Life, Poetry, Prose

The Morning Sun

The morning sun
washed away the rain
that tried to shine on me
last night
I huddled
under my pillow, hoping
for a westerly breeze, blowing
the night rain away, to where
rain showers go to live and die
Should I shed a tear
for the sky cemeteries
filled with dead rain drops?
or, should I just celebrate their passing
in the warming light
of the morning sun…..



My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

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