When the rain washes over me
Moisturizer for my charred heart
The dryness that is left by wasted words
Needing medicinal mercy
How soon the soon comes...
Wanting only to feel again
What has been taken away
And not be flooded by the monsoon tears
Whose current runs ferocious and deep
Each endless moment spent wishing
For the next moment to pass
Is useless time I can not afford
How soon the soon comes...
Would it have not been easier
Had we not ever touched hands
Never tempted, never tasted, never told
The stories that said so much
What blossoms, now, in foreign fields
Is not our's to share
Each to tend their private garden
Though the flowers we'll pick, familiar
Turning to the summer solstice
Grappling with the gone for good
I make the most of what you could not offer
Leaning on my own shoulder, again
How soon the soon comes....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem