Stormy

Forehead against the drop-streaked glass, 
Palms resting on window pane,
Foggy breath exhales ghosts of past,
As eyes echo mother earth’s rain,
And, as concave divots mark time’s pass,
With each ricochet hope is gained,
For, thunder is but a catalyst,
And lightning nature’s metamorphosis  

-Image is Winter Rain, by Marta Bevacqua; written as part of dVerse Poet Pub’s meeting the bar, using the form of the ottava rima. Go check it out and jump in! 

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19 thoughts on “Stormy

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