Whistling winds

Waves rippling over the surface

Whispering leaves glossed over

When did the breeze stop swaying us?

Why is the rain no longer a lullaby?

What caused the silence in the midst of a song?

Who changed us?

I see mass fog and dim street lights 

A forest somewhere beneath it all

An elevated view of grey nothingness

Evokes no emotions

Enchants no mind 

Epochs of reality diluting my once vivid imagination.

So, β€œrain, rain, go away!”

R. A. Douglas

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