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Poetry To A Rose: The Rainy Day
By Deborah Berry
21st CenturyThe day dawned gray, wet from the night's black rain
And she hung, heavily, her delicate limbs strained.
Bright petticoats ruined from the unmerciful, watery lash,
Rips running through her silks that the pelting onslaught slashed.
Only her leaves seem content under the wet, oppressive sky.
Smiling, face up, wearing a bright verdant shine.
But 'neath the glad green another story is told --
Distraught, limp blossoms weep for the sun's rays to unfold.
Like a careless young woman caught out in the storm,
Wearing delicate fineries despite her mother's forewarn.
Now ruined and guilty, as the grey wet day drags,
Priceless skirts fall to pieces, nothing but rags.
But today's rags make way for tomorrow's riches,
Already colorful skirts peek out from tight, green niches.
DayPoems Poem No. 2310
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