Lens Flare

For months it rained,
For months it snowed,
But not once did this river cease to flow.
I was always kept reassured
Of the assertive undercurrent,
Concurrent with little drops of souls
Trying not to get lost on their way back to sea.
Trying to find your way back into me.
They trickle with the roar of lions
And glimmer as a river of intangible diamonds,
Once underexposed due to lack of warm light,
And were cut and forgotten under heavy red light.
But lens flares in your hair are the sign of night's end;
Look up and look good, kid, the sun's up again!