He felt like sunshine.
_________________________
Not the sun of the middle of July,
framed by endless clear blue skies.
Not the sun at the height of the day,
dominating all open space.
Simple. Bright. Insincere.
_________________________
No, nothing like that.
_________________________
He drove the storm in front of him,
cracking thunder with each step.
He drove the people near away,
threatening lightning to those too close.
Step. Crack. Downpour.
_________________________
No, nothing I was expecting.
_________________________
Somewhere within the raindrops,
you can find the center of the storm.
Somewhere within the painful raging,
a shaft of pale light breaks through.
Misty. Faded. Steaming.
_________________________
No, don't rush that moment.
_________________________
There is a rainstorm on this corner,
and no one but me has noticed.
There is a thunderstorm in my chest,
waiting for it to be worth it.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
_________________________
Yes, look my way.
About the Creator
Alexa A.
Started my journey in the PNW, stops in Chicago, Melbourne, and now Cleveland. I work with the public, and in my free time I hide from the public. Still spend more time reading than writing, which I hope that you do too. Happy exploring!




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