I standstill
in the September rain,
with a hefty heart
screaming again,
The Magic lurking into the mundane
flowering the sordid bane,
the translucent
drops echo the music they contain,
I soak it in
the tears that the clouds give in,
every day is a day
lived in fright
I hold on to the holy night,
the rain taps on my
window
the thunder screams a frightening gasp,
as the brutal winds seem
to collapse,
I see a stranded rose
growing up in a hasty sight,
getting its shelter
under this nasty fight,
it blossomed
still under content ease,
in this
ferocious storm,
it found its peace.