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To What Clouds Remain?

How long do I have to wait until wet clouds cease, and happier clouds appear again?
Once were I lay my troubles upon the green blades of grass,
now only mud remanes.
Full was the tree from were we found shelter.
Now the cold wind blows creating a skeleton from which that was so alive. 
And fridged is the ground as it harness, the small crystals beginning to fall.
For empty is the hear that tries to remain full.
But  painful is the one that does not.
cc. By: Brady Smith