Sunshine Is My Pot of Gold
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A Qintain {Sicilian) Poetry Contest sponsored by Emile Pinet
poem edited and resubmitted 07/08/23
07/01/23
Clement weather is often just my dream.
I don’t mind wispy white clouds way up high,
or marshmallow ones topped with whipping cream.
Alas, brooding nimbus are drawing nigh,
I yearn for azure skies and one sunbeam!
Raindrops fall, I hear them pitter-patter,
then hail stones bounce upon my brand new car.
I daren’t go outside and watch them batter
my garden, too. Ice storms are so bizarre
and their crashing makes such a loud clatter!
Rain still teems down, it’s been pouring for hours.
Where’s the warm sunshine, and vivid rainbow?
Torn to shreds will be my lovely flowers,
trellis of sweet peas, just starting to grow.
How I loathe these sudden April showers!
Dark clouds start to lift, a rainbow appears.
Sun’s peeking through a minute patch of blue.
Prisms of colour, I’ve so adored for years.
I’ll venture out to get a better view
for such a welcomed sight moves me to tears
Copyright © Jan Allison | Year Posted 2023
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