There is a gentle rain this morning <br />just like a moistness of heavens eyes <br />a sadness that lacks the force to cry. <br />And behind a whiteish tint of grey <br />the sun is waiting to burst through soft haze <br />a little later in the coming day. <br /> <br />The noon day sun shines on all around <br />it builds up heat here on the ground <br />so that the clouds are laden, filled. <br />Later to burst with ferocious shaking sound <br />and light up the sky with forked flashes <br />rashly darting earthward bound. <br /> <br />As the sun sets behind a torn and ravaged sky <br />like the light that shines in elders’ eyes <br />full of the colours of life’s rich passing pageant <br />The days events writ large in crimson hearts <br />that witnessed life’s fullness of diversity in parts <br />to reach an end that quietly slips away <br />below the fixed horizon of our days.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-s-passing-pageant/
