Linda Marie Van Tassell
A Flower In The Rain
Grey city morning and black river streets.
Rain against my window, tears in my sheets.
Dark clouds in the sky, thunder overhead.
Imprint of your body left in my bed.
No knock on the door, no ring of the phone.
The wide world around me, I'm all alone.
A blue China cup broken to pieces.
Old love letters now torn at the creases.
Love hurts so much and like a knife cuts deep.
I am drowning in my tears as I sleep.
I want you and need you, but you are gone;
yet, the warmth within me must carry on.
Umbrella in hand, in a shawl of gloom,
I walk through the door that exits the room.
Every inch of sadness falls from the sky.
Each raindrop, a teardrop, within my eye.
Umbrella tossed to the side of the street.
I walk on the wet leaves beneath my feet.
I will die of love because I love you,
like a rose now wilted that once you grew.
I sit on the bench beneath the oak tree
and let the rains of life wash over me.
Each leaf on the tree is a vocal cry,
torn up from the deep roots to brush the sky.
Sparkles of rain-pearls now carpet the lawn,
the sorrows that came to life with the dawn.
My dress clings to me, a sadness to skin.
It reaches right through me and lives within.
A chill is upon me, watered with tears.
The grey light of morning now disappears;
and the blackness of night loses the moon.
I know love will not return to me soon.
With heavy heart and my burdens to bear,
with hair dampened by the dew of despair,
I stand to retrace my steps of before,
though nothing waits for me there anymore.
Green sea of sorrow turns black with the night,
and I bend to take what I have no right -
The weeping face of a flower in rain.
My heart is stirred by the hands of my pain.
It gives no refusal, no bitter cry.
With sweet compassion comes the soft reply.
Its petals touch me, my life-line is stained.
The sadness within me is self-contained.
I turn the key, quietly step inside,
and walk to the window and look outside.
Lightening strikes, so sad a night to illume.
The bright shards of radiance fill the room.
Telephone rings, but I can't move my feet.
I stand and listen as the rings repeat.
An hour passes, a knock is now heard.
I open the door and can't say a word.
You reach to hold me as I pull away,
although I crave your touch without delay.
The hurt is too deep, the sorrow is born.
I am so tired and so weary and worn.
You want to come back, I tell you to go.
You beg me again, but I tell you no;
and you turn to leave as I shut the door.
I fall like a flower upon the floor.
In tears I stand and walk to the window.
I look down to the solemn streets below.
There you stand crying beneath the oak tree.
You look up and reach your hands out to me.
I lift the window and turning around,
grab the flower that I earlier found.
I toss it to you; it lands at your feet,
covered with rain as it lays in the street.
You bend to retrieve it, weary and slow;
and deep within my heart, I let you go.
The wish for your love in my heart might dwell.
I kiss it good-bye with one last farewell.
Linda Marie Van Tassell's Other Poems
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