Cloudy Days, I Don’t Like Them.

A poem.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I don’t like them,
they seem colder, even when they’re not.
A prayer goes: “Thank God for the sunny days,
and also the cloudy and sad.”
But that’s not wise.

Rainy ones make plants grow,
and sometimes you get a kiss under it.
These don’t even make days spent in bed
more comfortable.
Food doesn’t taste better when lying down,
I’ve learned that.

Clouds have shapes when they’re by themselves
but when they gather, the dinosaurs go away.
Mother’s eyes often get watery
with a reddish glare,
clocking together for the rain to come;
I still haven’t learned why.

I’m a kid, and not really good at it.
So maybe these prayers don’t belong to me,
but to kids with sensitive skin
and weary eyes and bigger hearts.
I like them sunny and bright.