Fading storm

The wind blows across my face, a hollow tune.
The sea speaks, the waves flow.
This cold sea water that makes life grow.

Whistles of the trees in the rain, drums of pain.
The roots go deep, the soaked ground.
These sad whistles, the sorrowfull sound.

The storm grows weaker now, light breaks through.
A symphony of light and rainbows, color the sky.
The clouds blow away, they no longer cry.

The wind blows across the field, a good harvest yield.
The water and the wind.
The sun is let in.
The storm, now gone.