Passing Storm

Unfurling of black the heaviest of clouds,
Passing away with its torrent,
Removed now is this boiling shroud.
Behind this place no more torment.

Glimmers of fresh light pierce behind peaked cumulus,
Rays of hope and warmth now fall in place of rain.
Here now lies a meadow green before us,
A garden where we sew our pain.

Distant thunder echos mere reminders of the storm,
Memories of suffering now only bore in mind,
Where once we shivered, together now warm,
Glowing gold of light now cast I find.

Upon the azure plain where endured such wrath,
A gentle blue wildflower rises with a bloom.
There she grows, a beautiful blossom on my path,
Nor too soon did I find her perfume, oh these blue petals which survived that darkest passing doom.