African Violets


A single drop spills
And casts upon these hills
Is a storm from the screaming sky
A shower of hatred and sorrow
Lasts til the day is morrow
The pouring tears can't say goodbye

This purgatory ceases to end
The cracks in the sky cannot mend
Until a miracle appears in the eleventh hour
Three, possibly four
None of which you can ignore
The remedy was a dazzling, angelic flower

The African Violets are their name
This gloomy downpour is glad they came
The fragile petals, attacked by the cloudburst
Until the raindrops dwindle and die
And the soaked hills begin to dry
The purple majesties are no longer submersed

A single drop spills
The laser drop to thrill
That oh so wicked clash of the clouds
The blossoming beauties have done their job
The heavens no longer need to sob
While looking at truly radiant, violet crowds

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem