#WritcoPoemPrompt37
In the quietest part of the night,
When you hover between dark and light,
Wondering if you can float away on dreams,
Hoping they won't turn into screams...
A compassion , a heroically foretold vision ,
The trumpet blows , merrily marked celebration ,
The tall oak and the upright pine are evidence of magnanimity .
The advent of rain , with flash of lightning .
Oh ! do not fly by ; these winged dreams .
Refurbish mother earth , drenched in merciful shower from heavens above .
The shout of joy , Oh ! these scream of long lost fervour .
The erotic version