The windy rain comes
On a freezing night
And I huddle inside
Where I can keep warm
I eat, then sleep
Until my eyes open
I curl up under covers
Thankful to be safe
Away from all harm.
At 3 am the weeping returns
Cold, frigid and heavy laden
The clouds break apart
And torrential sheets
Pour down upon
My roof, collecting
In a million tears
As if I am a pillow
To be soaked endlessly.
The bone chilling air brings in
A dark gravity so imposing
Terror grips my veins
Squeezing courage from me
Only my will to awaken
Stubborn and eager
To rise and shine
Keeps enough fire
Burning to keep me warm.
Copyright © 2021 Charles Edward York
No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any meanss electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*
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Author:
Charles Edward York (
Offline) - Published: December 18th, 2021 02:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
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Comments3
When the night is freezing isn't it snow which falls from the sky instead of rain? Or maybe sleet.
Reminded me of my nightime fears as a small child hiding beneath the covers as a storm raged in the night outside.
When the night is freezing isn't it snow which falls from the sky instead of rain? Or maybe sleet.
Reminded me of my nightime fears as a small child hiding beneath the covers as a storm raged in the night outside.
It’s a poem not a weather report
Good write Charles.
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