Hope is like the sun

finding its way through dark clouds,

outshining the storm.

Rays carrying warmth

even frigid rain can’t touch.

A new rainbow formed.

Holes collecting rain,

puddles beg to be jumped in,

children’s loud laughter.

Lighting loudly strikes

waves of electricity

through out the night sky.

Comforting, the scent,

drops that plummet bring new life.

Dying grass gains growth.

Growth’s impossible

without sun’s warmth and rain’s fall.

We grow from our storms.

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