Hailstones came down with a velocity that suggested somebody flung them angrily from the distant skies,
Rooftops and car chassis wailed uncontrollably in unavoidable protests as they felt the impact of the thunderous punches that left them enough scars to remember the visit,
I instinctively looked up to find the hands which secretly contrived and orchestrated such Machiavellian deeds,
An act so loaded with insanity and steeped in folly I earned for myself a lump of ice blocks shot at my pale and fragile face,
Shot by the same untraceable and invisible hands I sought to find beyond the dark cumulonimbus clouds which strode with angry disposition across the overhead skies,
Even the sun had run for cover,
I searched,
Not in the east, not in the west, not in the north or south, not in any of the cardinal points I looked to could any trace of the sun be found,
As I ran through the threshold of the door to seek refuge for myself,
To my great delight and amazement I found out where the sun was hiding,
It had taken the form of human flesh and blood and opened the door to my own living room,
Planted a kiss on my lips and brought me into the circle of an embrace so warm,
All the punishing assault from the brutal weather was but a thing of the distant past,
The sun... in my very own living room... brought summer where winter tried so hard to be,
In one instant my bruised face was healed by the balm of sunlit loving rays.
Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary
