Year: 
2016

A cloud is born
   From river’s edge
      As rain begins to fly
 
The sun leaks out
   From building gaps
      As clouds and clear-sky mix
 
I seek a bridge
   A makeshift roof
      To hide and keep me dry
 
But then I see
   A mother mad—
      Her boy runs by and kicks
 
 
Frank Watson © 2016

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