Black clouds hold the sky
Like the dark ink of a headline
Reporting some tragedy
Leads the mind to think
Don’t you hate it when your right
To have said in uncertain terms
A prediction of type
Then watch it unfold slowly
Powerless in its prevention
Dark clouds foreboding
The soul in its thoughts
A breaking light shatters
The unhappy illusion
Changing headlines
Softening the ink
Makes you feel different
Hopeful and energetic
Alive with expectation
Waiting and wanting
A dream to happen
The sky in its colour
In its changing type face
Tells many stories
Only you can choose
Which one to read
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem