Wednesday, 15 September 2010

God, I hope it rains.

The clouds have been
hanging around 
for a time;
I've been walking these streets
for ages:
God, I hope it rains.

These city streets
will be flushed
and cleansed -
the grime
will be washed
and will be trod back
on bootheels.
God, I hope it rains.
My eyes are weary
but my feet have 
quit complaining,
and my head is full of tears
my eyes won't loose.
God, I hope it rains
on this dry and horrid noose.

I'm willing it to rain,
because these clouds
look far too servile
to drop their loads,
and my mind needs
relief from this heat.

Don't be so proud:
give in
to the weight
pulling you down:
that way,
I could give this sadness eyes
and feed it
what it wants.

1 comment:

  1. ...too much rain now, cold and moist and dirty, and with it frosty autumn, too early...

    I like your poetry, new thoughts, good read!