I just sit here, alone,
in the spot where you cleft me,
grieving your leaving,
bereft as you left me.
They tell me the sun
will still rise in the morning,
I know I won’t see it,
perpetually storming.
The clouds are just gray,
not one silver sliver
no rainbows or flowers,
no May buds delivered.
And I know this won’t last,
clouds will one day be gone,
but by then sun itself might
decide to move on.
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