I don’t remember if it was raining,
The first time we met,
Or the countless times after that.
But vividly, I recall, talking endlessly
As the grey deluge hummed against
The window panes, thinking that something new
Had been born, baptized by the summer rain.
Hesitance washed away, Purity remained.
From the mundane to the nonsensical
Tones hushed in contemplation, heavy with ideas
Then blossoming seamlessly into laughter
What is it? Dissect it! Define it!
Hush . . . why does it matter,
When it’s as uncomplicated as air?
We talked of love letters,
Beer-battered onion rings & the death of gods.
I wrung water from my skirt, a smile from your lips.
& I thought, how sweet it is to be loved how I loved to be.
Barefoot, face upturned to the rain
We walked along empty streets, the rain sighing around us
Laughter streaming bright in the storm
Will you receive this poet’s confession that all her words are useless?
And now the rain falls lightly, gentle as a prayer
Coaxing life of the empty soil.
I think of your smile, my new favorite thing.
& of the chain between us.
Afraid the sun will prove it to be an illusion, but it remains
gleaming like silver, gossamer-fine
Forged of the rain.
- Title: To Love the Rain
- Artist: Intrepid Indigo
- Description: Hi, here's another one . . . feel free to send some constructive criticism, disparaging comments, compliments, whatever floats your boat just pleased to get some feedback. This poem kinda sort of has a tune to it, is almost lyrics but then I am a poet at heart.
- Date: 08/12/2009
- Tags: love rain lauren hughes poem