Friday, 3 January 2014

The Luncheon of Rains

Like an uninvited guests is begins its course of “sspwwahhh”
And little by little its strength bangs the skies and the earth
For the beloved next is waxing in my shoulder
And the road to the table is next

When the callings of the floods appear
This crisping hope begins to disappear
Like a leaf shelled off its parent so bred into a desperado
Hoping that it was never the luncheon rains
That cuddled the pocket tsunamis

O luncheon rains,
Business has become stuck and the phone calls coming are wilder and cold
Giving new instructions from the resilient boss
That the end is near
That my lucks become as much as milking a hen
And I keep inquisitively looking at the skies counting the unseen stars

Pondering, when will you stop?

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