I walk through the worst storm of the year,
taking my time, having no fear,
laughing when blasts of sound come in,
and watching as rain curtains grow think and thin.
The wind tries to blow me everywhich way,
and though it seems like it'll just last the day,
I let it slip on, no plans where to go,
just taking the long route, making every step slow.
I spot what looks like the sign of another
who was walking at ease, not searching for cover,
and soon, we were walking, whereever we may walk,
and smiling when sound made it impossible to talk.
We look upon a world that was covered in rain,
but had, nonetheless, looked overall the same,
and while we had meant no offense to another,
laughed as he sprinted blindly for any form of cover.
And then it hit me: we were those who lived through this before,
so that we could do it again, and again. and even more.
Because after surviving tall the struggles and strife,
how scary can it be to go through a storm called life?
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