Gray Rain

Gray rain.
Thinking of pebbles
That fall
In the wishing well.
If everyone’s wall
Is as high as mine.

Gray rain,
Falling on my face.
Why do I cry?
Why do I wonder
If everyone’s alive?
Or feel the strange truth
That freedom has died.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (1)

I am touched by your 'Gray Rain'. You have a wonderfully original mind. Write on, Sandra. So glad that I met you in your poems. Kindest regards, Sandra