A Painted Woman In A Drizzle Poem by nimal dunuhinga

Low limbs of the live oak twist
like overlapping black rivers
across the sky.It is easy
to feel lost in the maze
of their convoluted journey
The World is Green Again
-Marjory Wentworth

Normally I do not go out with an umbrella
And it's a drizzle late in the evening
On my way back home from the library.
She smiled and ready to share the umbrella
The silence said in between us.
O the fingernails sharp and beautiful
And I was scared of her adhesive thick red lips
If I attached how could I go back to my beloved?
If not the umbrella her beauty washes
That's certain and her magenta colour transparent skirt
I saw the whole World of innocence!
'Rain seized and she said; Time has come to say Goodbye
And thank you very much for the warmth Grandpa! '
I said; 'It's a pleasure daughter! '
She turned to the upper lane and I used my usual gravel road.
In the darkness I whispered ' That name's already registered in the book of life forever Grandpa! '