Shall a host of angels shed their tears
as all the sins wash away in the rain?
Will their broken voices sob in weeping
for the cold, wet bodies on the ground?
The storm soaked earth flows sodden
around houses, cleansed and forgotten.
Once homes, they stand empty now,
while their tin roofs dance with raindrops.
Water tumbles, pouring from the grey sky,
tears unstoppable, the rains of heaven.
© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart