I'm not sure what to make of this day.
-- Springtime
They are speaking of how the sun will shine
And how the clouds have blessed this.
O, you’re raining today,
As you did yesterday
And you’ve done every day.
No dawn or dusk has graced us yet.
Tonight’s a full moon, but who’s keeping track?
Your shoes dragged this dirt--
I haven’t stepped a foot outside.
Speak, I beg of you.
I no longer can stare at blanks, and
I’m tired of holding the pieces together.
I’m aware of the emptiness through each door.
I’m bloated with clothing that's plagued with holes, while
Holding my needle and pin on the porch,
Patching with the underlying thread of my love.
The rain is the solace that’s gifted us this year
With streaks and buckets and puddles.
Just relax, breathe in the sweet blacktop
And forget that I’m alone every day in the attic
Trying relentlessly with each rain drop
To sniffle in every cloud you’ve got. --
In the style of T.S. Eliot. Written last year, revisited today.
But not since you left have the waves come.
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