Sitting lost on a stone cold bench,
Directions scratched upon a page.
An inkless pen is thrown far off,
Where on it drips the drops of rain.
Despair is a cloud within these skies,
Where she weeps her heart for me.
You'd think it'd be a comfort,
But all I feel is raining pity.
I lay my head within mine hands,
And mix my tears with mother natures cry.
I shout up to the heavens.
An empty space of growth or life.
Above the thunder rolls and rumbles,
How a father scolds his child.
My heart is saddened at its answer,
But then my eyes soon meet the sky.
A crease of light falls down on me,
Richly woven with true warmth.
And below me lies Gods blessing,
A shadeless flower, stained from the storm.
Gold trophy winner
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