LIFESTORM

Clouds hover in the morning sky
Hiding the light of the rising sun,
Is that an omen, to myself I ask
Of something desolate to come?

The ominous grey of the sky threatens,
On the horizon, the storm builds up fast,
Will the joy that floated in on the breeze
In this tumult, dare to last!

The drizzle that turns to driving rain,
The furious thunder that shakes the world,
Tells me the storm will soon be spent
Making way for the healing rays of the sun. 

MS