A cross of life bears it's burden.
by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Black clouds form around the atmosphere, filling inner skies with gray.
Reaching tenderly for warmth and understanding, grasping wisps of clouds with fingers tainted by sorrow.
Alive with wind-swept fury, bent upon aligning a lifetime of misery.
Alighting with gentle kindness, every once in a while love seeping out, shining it's glorious joy on anyone close enough to be touched by it.