Rain I remember those days so well, as a family we played, fought, laughed, and smiled. The sun shining ever so brightly, two days after Christmas morning, shopping and talking contently. My mother was not her usual self. Quiet and sad was she, I wondered of her condition. Upon returning home, my mother called us to her, she broke to us the dreadful news. Sunshine was predicted all week long, but on that day, for me, it began to rain.
Stephanie Lopez's Questions:
Does this poem sound well enough to actually be acknowledged?