of wistfulness.the lonesome figure stood upon the mound
a heap of memory and bitter regret
pondering, wondering
giving a little sigh
for he knows not when the sun will shine
tears trickle steadily down
like rivulets birthed from the storm
yet wash away the pain they fail
the heart is steadfastly staked
when will the rainbow appear?
one can only hope
one day, sunshine, it may
appear on the horizon once again