Saturday, April 30, 2016

For S. B.

marveling at the sight of the rays
peeking between the thin wisps
of the rain cloud.
Storms had always bothered him
deep within,
where the drops of water
hurled themselves against his soul,
marking him for life.
But today,
with the mix of sun and rain,
somehow, he felt more alive
than he had in weeks.
As the last of the rain melted away
he turned and caught a glimpse
of the rainbow he'd hoped to see.
Life is good, he thought.
Finally.


2 comments:

S. B. House said...

This is great! I'm always hoping for rainbows. I love how different stories can be when they come from the same prompt :)

Christina said...

I agree.

I feel like I always "say" that I'll attempt a prompt, and then I never do. And since I decided to write one last poem for National Poetry Month, I figured I could kill two birds...