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Rain

Rain crackles on the sidewalks As the thunder bellows and roars. Cars hiss by on the wet streets As fallen leaves soar. Lightning flashes in the clouds As the trees dance in the wind. Chills and goosebumps rise on my arms As the cold rain hits my skin. Birds sing in their havens As rivers form in the parking lot. Blades of grass flinch and twitch  As they are pelted by raindrops. Cars sweat and weep buckets As they are left out in the stormy weather. Puddles form in the mud As raindrops splash ripples in them together. The scent of asphalt and rain Fills the cool, humid air As God’s rain calms my restless soul And washes away my despair.

My Journal's Gilded Pages


My writing journal’s pages

Are gilded and bright.

Its pages glitter and shine

In the warm sunlight.


These gilded pages

Are filled with different things

Like poems and stories

Of dragons and kings.


I use my feather pen

To write riveting tales

Of boats that soar in starry skies

Beside large flying whales.


I use my feather pen

To write poems about birds

Who sing of faraway lands

And use strange, amazing words.


I write stories of the past

I write stories of the present

I write stories of the future

Which I find very pleasant.


My writing journal’s pages

Are gilded and bright

Not because of the gold leaf

But because of the words inside, right?

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