AP PHOTOA stormy night
The brightness of a streetlamp
stands out the minuscule figure
that shelters under a tree
in the stormy night.
The wind shakes the branches
which don't hide the moans
and the heavy rain
coats them with its weeping.
The darkness of the sky
penetrates the loneliness,
a damnation gets out
of a beggar's mouth.
The street is empty
and the air complains
with great sighs
that reach the clouds.
The showers follow one another
and soak the pavements
that splash the life
with drops of sadness.
María Griselda García Cuerva.
A very good poem, Maria.
ResponderEliminarJohn
I always feel sad when there's a storm. You have written a very good poem, Griselda.
ResponderEliminarLeticia
Many thanks, John and Leticia.
ResponderEliminarThe rain always makes me feel sad, I don't like it. The poem is excellent.
ResponderEliminarSara
Thank you, Sara.
ResponderEliminar