The reluctant rain
like the jilted lover
scared of revealing
too much too soon
The furious ligtening
like an old spark
there and yet not there,
sometimes only sound
ocassionally only light
Dear December
with companions so weird
it must be a tough
to always be the last
full of closures
and pending pain
mere memories
of spring
to warm the heart !
It was a treat reading your poems. Thanks
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