The moon is up, the stars are out,
Lightning bursts the skies,
The night is cold and without a doubt,
The sound of one child’s cries,
The rain so harsh, it stings my face,
The wind throws back my hair,
Alas, we are a dying race,
There is no one left to care,
My soul has been pierced by a thousand spikes,
For all that I have been through,
This is the weather that no one likes,
But I do.
This was published in the United Kingdom’s ‘National Anthology’ in 2010. I am proud of having this published (but not of who published it, hence the publisher remains unmentioned).