Today’s prompt: Write a piece of prose or poetry that uses the words black eyes and cold winter rain.
The syncopated pitter patter of this rain on my tin ceiling
is weaving a symphony, like the fleeting touch of the thrumming harp wire;
a constant reminder of the scattered memories making their way
through the thin sluices of my corrugated roof
my window frame getting battered by the gale is an unbroken reminder
that there is a dream birthing in the black of my eye
the swirling surreal dream shimmering as they dazzle in my eyes
are contesting the festive lights decorated throughout my sepia tinged room
These little blurbs of serenity and incomparable joys have taught me that
nothing stays forever, even the boisterous gale battering the pain in my windows.
A haunting reminder of the sullen memories will stop and die down eventually.
Beautiful dawn will birth in the crimson folds…
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