Echoes Of Hard Times

I felt it like the storm
I called it my trying times
During my dying time.
In rear times.

But the moon looked at me with pity
As the Sun wished it could dry my tears
By shining so brightly.

My pain wrapped itself around me
Like a blanket around a suckling child
Without her mother.

Although the stars watched over me
But couldn’t help with an antidote
For my disease.

I slept so calmly but still dancing to
the tunes coming from the forest of
my sorrows like thorns.

I felt the hotness of those tears
As they trickle down my chin
Without permission.

With both hands I tabled my problems
To the one above, for I know the storm
Would soon be over.