A Cycle of Rainbows and Storms
This was exactly where we stood last year, muddying the waters with our immature: “I don’t know, let’s just go with the flow.”
The tide turned.
But the sky quickly greyed again, as it always had.
Promises were made. We tried to hold it together for sunnier days, for another possible rainbow, but poor choices— they bled through our fingers like a fistful of water. What was once right as rain was lantern-jawed, on life support. She vanished as soon as she appeared.
The phone rang, it was her. The clouds parted. My sky brightened. Again, our rainbow emerged.