Feed on

Make it Shine


How I long for a sunny day.

It has rained for days now. Seventeen to be exact; I have counted them. 

Even the grasses bend in utter defeat. Their own weight, they can no longer bear. The dogwood blossoms have all but given up; most lie on the ground—spent before I could fully enjoy them.

And that beautiful, old tree—it has fallen into the pond. Ground so soaked it could not support it. Uprooted. Taproot snapped, severed from essential lifeblood. Not even the caretaker can help it now.

I have all but memorized the confines of my room. The creases in my bedding are too familiar to me. And I miss the light that once filtered through our house.

Oh, how I wish for the sun to shine. Please momma, make it shine.

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