Poetry

Yang


In the dreadful conditions of a gloomy day,

The door felt too heavy to be pushed open,

Of relieving its efforts the rain gave no token,

It was nearly impossible not to stay.

 

The fog seized all that did not hide,

The cold pierced that could still feel,

And devoured it with unbearable chill,

Forcing trees to bow despite their pride.

 

The relentless pain of the wind that stang,

The unceasing, ruthless rain,

But no matter what more the day’d contain,

A bird in the trees carelessly sang…

 

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