She was desolate,
Though she did not mind her own company.
She walked through a field grass,
Tall and forgotten,
With her soft dark hair hanging
On her slender shoulders.
Mighty clouds rolled across the sky,
And a soft glimmer burst from the
Descending sun amidst the billow.
She, a modern day angel
Felt the wind brush her cheeks
Like a lover would.
She looked at the sun sinking
Below the horizon, devoured by clouds.
She raised her head, and saw the clouds
Shapeshifting into millions of images.
As she closed her eyes, she felt a trickle
Land on her eyelids, her face, her head,
The wind howled at the bedding of clouds,
The grass swayed, rustled in rhyme with the symphony.
She raised her hands beside her,
He palms facing the gloomy sky
As the rain dropped.
Showering the earth,
Washing the fields,
And cleansing the souls of the lost.
The angel raised her arms to the sky,
And finally felt safe,
“‘Je suis libre!” she cried.