Felt a poem I should write,
reason lacking as to why.
Neither winds whisking softly,
fragile leaves unfeeling spry.
Clouds so bloated bold and brave,
not intending to behave,
ever dreary in their pout,
no significance to tout.
What reflects in gathered pools
leave me cold as I am not.
Pretty petals floating pink,
visions easy to forgot.
Sun is missing from the sky,
sky is missing dragging high,
covered under wilderness
stirring raindrops in their kiss.
Even so I lack a feel,
nature’s being to bestow,
not a gravity or damn
giving credit to the flow.
Senses graze about what seems,
what in my eyes barely gleams
as this shelter keeps domain,
keeps me sheltered from the rain.
But as sunlight peeks a fin
peeking by a crevice thin,
beauty’s wonder may begin
if I, daring, venture out
seeking touch to welcome in.
