Thunderstorms
My mind has thunderstorms,
— That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words;
— My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.
Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
— And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
— My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.
— That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words;
— My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.
Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
— And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
— My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.
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