Heavy rain:
Drip for the garden,
Drop for the lawn:
Drum roll for the garden,
Refreshing frogpaddle pond,
Falling future for
Sun-parched ground.
I’m remembering a
Storm-hammered, crowded,
Noisy, light blue bus
Leaving a street market
In Yesterday’s-Gone,
No-Promise country;
A lover’s farewell:
“The skies cry,”
Biting back youngblood tears,
Biting passion-bruised lips,
“When good friends part.”
Drip for the past,
Drop for the present,
Drum-roll for the memory,
Reviving yesterday’s dancers,
Refreshing history’s dreams.
31/7/2013
Photo: www.newtopwallpaapers.com
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