A cold chill looms in my subconscious.
Awake, there are flakes of doubt whether,
I will weather, future rains on “my parade”
With a calm front.
We live not in the doldrums for very long.
Clouds come and go.
I will focus upon the clear skies…my horizon.
Stomping in puddles,
Making snow angels,
And building sand castles on the warmest days.
For the winds of change are unpredictable,
Yet, I’m certain, the sun always rises in the East.