ifeoluwa dele

bubble in the rain

In the mirror of April rain
I jumped high; you aired away
a free flying bubble, higher you blew;
lower I jumped, jaded.
You aired on; open, you burst wide
on the Easter evening of raw rain.

To you, what can I say?
Can my words hold you on?
Is it the knotty foreign tongue
or the clueless class?

The mirror, I placed
in the heart of the raw rain
that spanked the rotten roof,
hut of the broken bubble and me.

Submitted: Thursday, May 09, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013

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