At 3 a.m. on a bench in a park on the shores of Lake Michigan,
I wrote a poem to my former love.
It poured out of me and had me crying for a few minutes upon completion.
The tears eventually dried up,
Acceptance of that lost love settled inside of me,
As the cold breeze of the lake hit me.
I laid out on a picnic table with my sleeping pad and sleeping bag,
Seeking to rest my exhausted heart and body.
As I was dozing off, a raindrop hit my forehead.
I awoke, looking up into the once star filled sky,
Now covered with the looming clouds of a storm.
Rain poured down from the heavens,
Drenching myself, my sleeping pad, my sleeping bag, and my motorcycle.
I packed up my things, rode my motorcycle across the street to a McDonalds,
Wet, shivering cold, and tired, I ate breakfast as I waited out the storm.
A couple of hours later,
The storm passed, the sun began to rise,
I rode back to that picnic table and slept.
I awoke to a majestic blue sky,
A gentle breeze, the chirping of birds,
The water from the storm dried up.
I knew I would be okay.