A Storm

My first sonnet, that my brain felt like churning out in an emotional burst:

The sky transformed from blue to darkest black,

With longing thoughts that clouded up the mind.

There was no certain answer he could find

To certify why she had turned her back.

With loneliness he wallows in despair;

All hope is washed away amid the rain.

There seems to be no way out of the pain

Unless he found one more such flower rare.

Yet, when time had finally settled down the storm,

He looks around again for something warm.

Soft rays glance meekly through unseeing blinds,

And birds are singing about other kinds

Of flowers beautiful that he could try.

Looking outside, a blossom caught his eye.