Forecast
A Poem
I don’t need a weatherperson to tell me
that the sky is falling and that the rain
is really the wrung eye rags of children
who are confused as to what the future holds
The forecast is gloomy, overcast like my heart
I want to hold up an umbrella to the sky
but the rain that’s pouring is way too heavy
So there I am, like you, overturned
Cloudy is my personal disposition anyway
so seeing them hold the sky up is solace to me
But I know that others need the sun
which makes it difficult when it is hiding
The forecast is sour, it just doesn’t taste right
and it takes me back and makes me reconsider
why I trusted it in the first place, the future,
when the future is just a product of us
Us, we, are torn beyond repair
but with that said, it’s not hopeless
For even the world can be mended
if the sewing kit is big enough
© Jonathan Greene 2020
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