Black Rose Pedals Blowing Through The Air Poem by Moth Harris

With the grey clouds come wind of a deafening force.
The source of my sorrow, the black pedals of course
and I know the rain is coming, I've seen little yet but breeze.
To see what the rain maker sees beyond the green of trees
will always be a mistery to the wondering part of me.

When the thunder crashes and lightning clashes in the sky
I will hold a picture of you and I and wonder with every part of me.
Is the world ending, I'm pretending to not notice.
I'm hoping that someone can come and sew this back together,
end this terrible weather and bring back my sunny days.