Thunder rolls across the sky
in long, low rumbling echoes,
I remember my grandma saying,
“Angels are bowling, one just got a strike,”
I wonder what games the gods are playing
way up high above,
is it dark there, or light?
is it day or is it night?
Are we the pawns for their own game?
will they take us off the board?
and I listen to the rain, falling down,
angel’s tears.
cfblack 04-07-15
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