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Slate gray
stretches,
denim-textured,
across the sky.

Grieving
and lost for words,
the thunder roars--
a desolate sound.

On a porch swing
in Kentucky,
I listen to their cries,
wishing
I could do more
than ache for the clouds
and pray
the rain will stop.
:iconglory-be-project: Day I just realized how much a crowd of screaming girls sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

:iconnapowrimo: Day 9

Used these prompts--the language of thunder and lost for words.

April 9th, 2013
:iconrlkirkland:
rlkirkland Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Wonderfully rich with emotion. :heart:
Reply
:iconbetwixtthepages:
betwixtthepages Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you! :heart:
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