A Photographic Journey: The Sound

The Sound

The sound  of the pouring rain,

It won’t stop.

Inside–

It’s dark.

Explosion–

Waiting for a spark.

The roaring sound,

I hear it even if no one else does,

Changed to whispers,

And then it was gone.

Clouds fade,

And disappear.

Fallen trees,

Their rings exposed,

Showed their age,

No branches sway,

Lay on the ground,

And waste away.

Tapping on an unopened box,

Shelter from the rain.

Inside–

What to keep,

From what is lost.