A Renegade Cloud

Leaves of gold and yellow,
An evening sky of red;

A whisper of silver,
A renegade cloud overhead;

Smell of rain or showers linger
As a squirrel eats his dinner;

Giggles of playing youngsters
Almost loud enough to quash my dread.

Today alone,
Yesterday together;

A love so strong,
Now gone dead.

© 1998 Steven Barto

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