Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

when the sun doesn’t speak

there are some days
the sun doesn’t wish to
speak to us, so she weakly
covers up, pulls up a cloak
of clouds to block the way
between us, so our gaze
is haunted by a rainy gray
her murmurs muffle, becoming
thunder rustling through
the leaves of the sky

2 Responses to “when the sun doesn’t speak”

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