Untitled

Past,

And the trees were depressed,

arms sunk

as if weighted by the sky above them.

The sky was dark,

its heaviness felt by none

but one.

The rain was cold,

washing away the troubles of all

but one.

Until that one 

arose.

The trees were jubilant,

vivaciously green

sighing in relief.

The sky cracked and shed its moldy skin

to reveal

light.

LIGHT.

The sweet-smelling rain refreshed none

but one.

I AM THE ONE.

Light.

Future.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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