Making sure the dollar umbrella is open,
I walk into the world protecting my
head, ears and coiffure. The rest of me
throws my body in denims blue, that
change with each droplet.
Thoughts racing, I walk to my domicile.
sure that life is a wet affair today.
When the coffers were dry, I cried torrents, what will I cry in this
wet affair, where my denim shoes are
muddied up. Shut up and watch this in
my bed, I whisper to my wet denim wra
pped body. Next time, wear a raincoat and
for life is a storm. Watch what remains after it is gone. Disgruntled twigs separated from their source, wishing they
could have put up a better fight. Don't
let it happen to you, this big rip off.for you will get a shower you did not ask for.
To be showered walking on the road is not
for the feeble hearted. They are schooled in being prepared,ask their heart. For me, I now hear raindrops from afar. I get under cover. I will not have a repeat. While the screen is blue, I will be prepared.
boots
denims change color with each droplet..
Lovely poem. Fight for struggle is always there but the thrill of being out in rain is its own reward. When it slips I know life is slipping by me. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Each raindrop marks the passage of time. Perhaps we do not notice it, but at times the drops rage and the result is a torrent. Ignoring is now done at one's peril. A great lesson taught in such a subtle, magnificent way. Terrific poem, Sarah.