Poetry

There’s no thunder’s match falling from the sky
while for days without end rain sieves down,
while we both live in a world of our own
and the cold, wet winter passes us by,
something much deeper lies in your eye
while darkness covers the earth like a gown,
there’s no thunder’s match
 
in the winter rain, while time does fly
no shining stars are seen that make a crown,
the big pinewoods seem totally overgrown;
some twilight comes, as if the sun did die,
there’s no thunder’s match…