I heard the rain
whispering your name
in a song
with each drop
on rusted tin roofs
I remember your feet
across a smooth floor
to jazzy horns
stirring the storm
I felt my heart
crack like thunder
when your eyes
struck without warning
All went calm
I'm guilty of loving you,
Absorbing your pain
When you cry,
On the inside.
When you laugh,
My joy shines
Like a Spring rain.
I laughed with a homeless lady today,
We shared a moment, a story common to conversations -
The weather, "A storm is coming!"
The wind whipped through the streets,
Skies darkening and droplets pelting our heads.
Indeed, the storm was coming,
Neither of us acknowledged that it had already arrived,
A darkness in the shadow of the streets,
Brightened by her smile and her giggle.
The storm moved her to rise from her resting spot
To spread the word to bystanders,
Waiting for a seat at a restaurant for their next meal.
As we walked in opposite directions,
I could still hear her saying, "A storm is coming!",
Her message continued, followed by a gentle joy and heavy heart.
Writer and photographer.