by Eliza Astère
the skies of June are tied to my heart with a dainty silver string
each grey cloud misty on her own
grieving the loss of the earth as it was known
while silver linings flourish like flowers deep in sorrow
so goes my gloom, in a promise:
may the hopes yesterday guide tomorrow
I walk amidst this rainstorm
the dreary gutter waters flowing like aimless rivers
where flames set alight my dear memories graced in prose
while cries of chaos mingle like sentient thunder
so discretely, I wish:
may the rainclouds mist forever
my hope is spun around a cloud upon a silver string
alas, she grays the summer skies
cleansing the terror from the earth as it was known
while silver linings fade like flowers ripe in splendor
so goes my hope, I pray:
may it rain until December