He sat on the bench and meditated
His life was rather complicated
It sometimes felt he wasn’t understood,
The world seemed to say to him
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
And now he felt the tides of life
Rising up through pain and strife,
He sat and prayed to gain relief
somehow it failed to ease his grief,
The heavens opened, the rain fell hard
A cascade of water, a hail bombard.
The waters rose around him high
Falling from the ashen sky
And there he sat, beneath the trees,
Languishing, lonely, with wet knees.
This poem was belatedly written for the 50 Word Thusday Challenge, this week hosted by Teresa, the Haunted Word smith: