A sign appears.Just as holy men before me would search the sky for omenswhich determined fates, my sign rises in the east,the first unmistakable sign of attack this day.Bright, cheery sunlight streams through the trees,Delights in the patterns it drops on dappled leaves,and sprinkles dancing sparkles...
- Font size
- Email This
- Bookmark
- Thank you for your input
- Save
- RSS
- Report Abuse
As I read your poem, I could hear the sorrow, and the pain that is experienced with these awful migraines. I have been a sufferer for 27 years (since I was 5) and it is hard to explain to people how everyday happenings (the sun, light, breezes, smells and sounds) are so much different to us than it is to a non-migraine sufferer. Thank you for sharing your poem with others.
Jena H.