Watching the Rain
as it dribbles down the window
and slips past your waiting fingers,
but you, a little girl,
only wish for the tears
to stop.
And while the rain falls, gently,
smoothly,
it leaves fresh imprints
upon the soil it was born
from,
and falls, piercing,
from the sky.
The clouds darken
and then shudder,
as if your eyelids
are closing in on themselves.
The rain
stops
in the silence, and
the soil swallows
the salty water,
wallowing
in its nutrients,
as the sun peeks
from underneath
its gray umbrella.
The clouds,
a now pale, pasty white,
roll away,
revealing a new,
brighter
beginning.
A rainbow.
Note: This poem is a metaphor between your tears and the 'tears' of the Earth. In this case, I refer to the clouds as your eyelids/eyes, your tears as rain, and your skin as the soil that absorbs your tears after you've cried.
But just remember, after your crying and your suffering, there will always be a rainbow. :)
~Comet
