3 years….8months….9:25:35


when the morning came she was still here
the clothes on the floor
the cup empty with morning coffee grinds
photo of him can be seen across the room
reflected colours off the indigo tiled table
his photo of their first married day
wedged in the corner of the mirror
large glass of water next to diovol, hand lotion
pencils, books, journals of all sorts
dvd player with stacks opened and closed
her bag, always packed she never seems to unpack


the grey clouds gathering
entices her to get up from under
the feathers that surround her
nearing like distant stomping hoofs
sound and sight run hand in hand across the field
birds start fussing
first a low hum
then louder as the excitement expands
she is standing at the doorway
nose and hand pressed against the grey screen

nature and human are converging
a meeting of matters
she closes her eyes so she can better listen to the sounds
drops start to mark their path across the deck
she slowly pushes the door open in a sort of seductive manner, welcoming the rain like a lover being invited to one’s bed lightly tapping the sheets
occasionally the sound of the hot rubber sliding over wet pavement makes its way up top
by then the rain is transforming all surfaces
dancing vigorously with all available forms
there is such joy that is created from this simple act
the day the rain came
like foreplay it teases and entices you
moving shapes and sounds in circles till all is one and the dizziness takes over
rain on your face not unlike sweat on your skin
the birds know it and they welcome it with no reservations
then as quickly as it came it leaves

rain is like a love that is great in small doses
for if it stays it will destroy by flooding you with too much love and drown you
floating till your body lies softly on the ocean floor
love is an entity all of its own
love is a spirit that feeds on freedom
to have loved and been loved back
is one of the wonders of life
to have loved once fills you
to love twice could kill you

so she sits and redirects her love to other things
to the sounds of birds chatting
to the sounds of approaching rain
to the sound of the typewriter keys hitting
to all that she creates
this is what she will love now
for this will see her to the end