Some days rarely, the clouds will gather,
And darken and boil from the charge within;
She doesn't choose it, and sure would rather,
The storm disperse, and not ever come again.
But the wind will blow, and the rain fall,
And a tree or two, may be pulled by the top;
The important things will last thru it all,
For every wind that starts, must also stop.
As the sky slowly brightens, the clouds part,
The downpour disipates, becoming a dribble;
The Sun tries tries its best the day to start,
You won't get a good bite yet, maybe a nibble.
Clouds gone now, all precipitation evaporates,
The mind once again clear, the heart is still true;
Storms will come that's true, but always abate,
Tempests may threaten, yet the sun always shines through.