The Flood

It came.
It came and it
destroyed.

I look over my
garden.
Beautiful creation.
Once alive with
birdsong, the sweet
chirrup of crickets,
the fine rustle of
the willow.

And the flowers.
And oh,
the flowers.

The trees clambering up
just to taste
the striking sunlight
I had lain before
them.
Well no more.
The sunlight now replaced
with rain
fallen from my Heaven.

Everything is cold,
is barren.
Isolation spreads
throughout.

And why have I
done this to
what was mine?

Maybe one day they'll know.
Maybe one day.