Sunshine is Rare

My open window frames
a town, perfect in tradition.
And when the light hits the shoreline,
just right,
it's a hopeful place to be.

Sunshine is rare,
yet not rejoiced.
The humid air mixes with anticipation of rainy days.
Because at least our clouds and fog,
at least they're consistent.
As consistent as my drunken father,
beating my frail mother.
As consistent as the dark depression,
that eases over me,
as I realize
sweet friendship ends in bitter despair.

One day, my everyday will be an adventure
and sunny days WILL be rejoiced.
As foggy shorelines,
blue as her bruises
will slowly heal with time.
Becoming an almost gentle memory.