A Poor Summer’s Day

Lightening flashes as the Gods themselves roar,
And hail rains down from the heavens up high.
These are the cries of nature’s constant war;
The battle of Gods, high up in the sky.

And down far below, the men cringe with fear.
They don’t understand these sounds that they hear.
And the sight of light dancing in the clouds,
Is only made worse by the rumbling sounds.

This is the way of a poor summer’s day.
But as fast as it came, the gloom will pass.
Cause storms of summer are not meant to stay.
This darkness, though dark, I promise won’t last.

So worry not that your skies have turned gray,
Your summer’s still young, there’s still time to play.


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