The Rain Tolls Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

And the rain sounded like hail,
From the rooftops - a galvanized frailty
To whom does the rain toll?

The marred corners are baying prudently,
And soon the thunder would crash like the foliage,
For whom does the rain fall?

Then all the people who basked underneath the rain,
From puddles, the images hang loose from the terrain,
To whom does the murk of the wind call?

The cold monsoon blusters,
And the trees sprawl to their forefathers,
Tell me underneath the pouring savagery, for whom does the wind stall?

A chasm waiting to be filled,
By the zenith that scampers throughout the fields,
I am bludgeoned by the wind as it scrolls

The sun failed to resurface – collapsed blatancy
As the clouds tender with rain graced ardently
Dullard as it would appear, the rain proceeds to sear

And by the dying moments of the rain,
The slivers of sleeping restive waters breathe
To give life to one more tempest – in me.