I look outside, it’s raining hard. Which every drop comes a sound.
The morning air as cold as ice.
My house was filled with the smell of rice.
As I sat, there came along a group of mice.
The pot was hot, or so I thought,
the silence overwhelming.
I would not bare to look,I would much
rather have read a book.
That’s all I could have done, for everyone was gone.
The wind was hollering my name, as none had done
in a long time.
I sat in bed, reflecting.my room was closed and dark.
The only light on such a night,came from a nearby fireplace.
I sat there, quiet.
I closed my eyes along with heart and soul.
Now, I can hear the children play in the clear blue sky.
At last happy.
(Please think deeper about this for it’s suppose is to be heat warming but sad)