Let it Rain

image courtesy New Tipper

See it rollin' from where I stand, grows cold and dark across the land.

All around the air damp and heavy, chillin' to the bone every part of me.

Thick clouds fill the valley where they come, pour across the sky, smother the sun.

Some days it grows cold and rain might fall. Following thunder, come wash it all.

From way up high it'll be fallin' down, with a frigid sting strikin' the ground.

The wind whips a kiss upon my cheek; the awkward “hi” of old lovers meet.

Crisp embrace press hard against me. Brush my face, hair waving free.

A deep inhale I look up to the sky, Loose my gaze in gray, as clouds start to cry.

Some days go dark, and the rain surely fall. Rollin' off the thunder to drown it all.

From way up high, it keeps pourin' down. Comin' in a rush, wash away the ground.

The winds they come, and they will go. Sometimes bring the storms when they blow.

Seas will rage crash upon the shores. Rattle scrape windows, howling at your door.

In a lighting flash, dash away your dreams Wash away your hopes, ways and means.

One simple quip; will you explain; Please tell me why it must rain?

And then comes dawn when dark will relent. Clouds falling back their rage all now spent.

Peering from night's shelter blue fills my eyes. It's another new day; perfect fathomless skies!

I look and find it's lush everywhere Green and in bloom where once bare.

Under weather a torrent's all you know. But like a rough ocean tide to polish a stone

when storms rush in bringing their strife, After the dark, they can also bring life!

Why is it sometimes we don't see What rain also brings, what it feeds?

image courtesy Tempest Gallery

Some days grow dark and rain might fall. A burst of new life brought to us all.

Askin' still to let it pour down Feed this cracked and thirsty dry ground.

Oh, please, let it rain...

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I'm pretty sure the metaphor reads well enough here, right? 

One of the more interesting things about our lives is, much like how a storm can bring upheaval, the troubles can sometimes bring new directions and opportunity in how it gets resolved; or what it may even bring down.Sometimes, though, it can be really tough to see that when you're going through it. But, once we get through the tough times - weather the storms - we're greeted by something new, clean, and full of potential, again.

To tell truth, here, I'm not sure what kind of sound this piece has. It could be ballad rock, or some sort of soft metal. Or, it could even be jazz. However, when I first wrote this piece, I envisioned it in a grassy, parched valley from the vantage point of a run down farm shack. So, maybe something with a bit of a country flavor? Folk rock?