Silently Raining


Though the world is grey and cold,
And the sky cries salty tears,
It is silent.
Amid the high-pitched voice
Of the blonde haired four-year-old,
And the quietly noisy
Sounds of the bus,
The world is silent.
And it is raining.

A/N: I came up with this poem when I was on the bus coming home from school, and I like the way it sounds. I think it sort of expresses the feeling of Seattle. It was originally just me thinking to myself, but I decided it sounded like a poem, so it became one.