Naked Rocks

Gusts of wind whipping against the stone,
Like a whip against the bare skin,
But without blood dripping down.
Just the sheer pain alone
Is enough to be pressed against the grey wall
Of a cold heart, holding still
In a silence of a moment,
Still staying here after all.
Leaves gently falling down the trees
Covering up the wounds
Of nature
Those no one sees.
All the greens start to sprout
And gleaming, through the dark clouds.