A cloudy haze
of rain filled days,
with spotted drops
on knotted ties
punctuated
by frustrated sighs,
will be a while
before clear blue skies,
battle off thunder
to become dry,
warm blue days of sun,
With sounds of children
and their mums,
playing childish games
filled with fun,
nevertheless
these days will come,
the mums, the summer
and their sons,
daughters too
pink socks and shoes
the boos the hoos
who did it to whom,
will cease
as summer comes,
These days are made
for daisy chains
the ones that chase
away the rain,
and all the blame
and tear stains
will be washed away,
The day,
that summer comes.