I stepped out in the rain,
A sopping summer storm.
The drops splashed on my face,
Like infant lakes.
I walked beside the river,
it sang to me its dreams—
To roll and rumble on the shore
Of endless beaches.
I slept beside the river,
And it whispered in my dreams,
A swelling hope of coming home
A rising need to rest.
I plodded along the shoreline,
Feet sinking in the sand,
Waves sliding up beside me,
To rest there on the land.
I smiled at the water,
And I continued on,
Knowing I would find my home,
And rest there once again.
I stepped out in the rain,
Like sobs from darkened sky,
Water weeping down my cheeks,
Like children cast aside.
I wept that night with the rain,
And howled into the wind,
I’d walked so long and longed to rest,
But knew there’d be no end.
1 comment:
I really like this, and that's saying something, because I hate most poetry, especially amateur poetry.
It's very Roberty Frost-y, only not so patronizing.
Post a Comment