After The Rain


After the rain
The beaded water
Strung loosely
Upon each green blade
Shone many colours
Moving my head
In classic ‘yes’
Up and down
Ironic promises unkept
The one who said
“I’ll be there next week”,
But both are not bad
Just unreliable
Better get on with it then
Living what there is
No point to wait on ‘maybe’
Maybe sometimes gets mad
If you don’t wait
BUT how can you wait
For MAYBE?
After the rain
She rings my doorbell
Many many times
Like an insistant child
All dressed in blue and white
“The flowers should be cut back”,
She says with nonchalance
Not remembering the day
I cried when she secretly
Made my garden bleed green
Apologizing for wanting perfection
After the rain
That day was a sick one
I reminded her about the appointment,
“You tell me everything
AT THE LAST MINUTE!”
She does not rememeber
We scoped that office last month
At her demands
I rarely fight them
It is impossible to fight
Rising suns and waxing moons
After the rain
I sit and think
How powerful the words
We give each other
How careful we should be
Yet
Living
We are so careless with our words
Slinging them outwards
With thoughtless force
After the rain
I cannot
Those long chats have
Sometimes 10 hours long
Years past
When I was
Working still and stronger
One king after another
Leaves the stage
After the rain

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