The Fool

Nature mourned.
The sky cried tears of despondency.
The thunder moaned angrily,
the lightening crackled with frustration.
A sorrowful beam of the sad, sad moon shone,
piercing through the sad, sad clouds.
They all watched him, standing on the street corner,
The Fool.


His soul burned with grief,
his eye with tears,
and his heart with regret.
Deep inside him,
despair was nestled,
a sword of hate,
burning into his existence,
as he watched her walk, down the street,
around the corner, and out of his life.


No raindrops touched her,
no thunder reached her ears,
and no lightening reached her elegant blue eyes.
The sad, sad clouds blocked the sad, sad moon,
Just for her.


It was then that he knew she was Gone.
Her radiant skin would never grace his sorrowful eyes,
her sweet, sweet voice would never again caress his sorrowful ears,
and never again would her gossamer skin bless his sorrowful flesh.
Never again would she be hurt by,
The Fool.