Saturday, July 9, 2011

Last night's rain

The night drizzle
for me is more than
simple ecstasy. I realize how

quietude pronounces with each
plopping sound; ripples grow
and die out in intersecting cycles,
similar to my entering your domain
and you into mine.

I pore over the small world
of a puddle. In the mayhem of melodic
raptures, syllables entwine. Words dawn,

echoing my lonely feeling: I'm stranded,
alone in a crowd.

After the rain dozes off, remnant drops
measure the distance
between us.

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