Senior Year, When Time Was Silenced

Occasionally, sunlight slips through the clouds, Offering hope for clear skies to the crowd, But the warm ray only lasts a minute at most, Until the clouds diligently shift back to their posts.

Time is warped due to the absence of light, At the end of the storm becomes less finite. Over and over, day blends into night, Creating an endless cycle of midnights.

Walking the dog down the driveway, Or finishing that literature essay. Suddenly feel like chores to be delayed, As the scale tips to favor all work and no play.

The weather forecasters keep disagreeing, Over whether the storm is a drizzle, a hurricane, or something in between. The level of disunity between past predictions and current reality is obscene, As countless experts in the field are called to intervene.

Crippling uncertainty has reared its ugly head, And people are wondering as they lay at night in their beds. When will this rainy day get better, Because nobody can control the weather.