Stay awake, my dear comrades. The clouds have returned, Along with their pouches filled to their brims, Enraged. Like the general, the wind commands, That they pour over our mountains and valleys. Behind, the sun watches over, With her raging fire. She would soon rise to her glory. The droplets tear down every weak branch. The flowers already accepted their fates. Grass leaves tremble under their confidence, Bamboos are far away from being straight. Dead leaves sprawled over the ground, As they retreat. The mess they made, All we could see were flooded streets. The rays tore from between the darkened clouds, The ray of hope, that'll soon be passing out. The month of rain and broken trust- August. ~~gingerbread