Second voice for the prompt “rained out picnic.”
She wist not what howling winds and dank rains
The heavens might let fall that merry day,
So kneeling her down before the window,
Begged Saint Medard sunshine for the morrow.
But when the morrow did come and the birds
With their joyful singing should have waked her,
She woke instead to drumming from the skies
On the roof, and then on sleeve from her eyes.
What type of story does this feel like to you? When does it take place? Tell me in the comments!
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