It’s late, too late to be raining
The dog does not walk the old man.
The teenage buzz drowned in yesterday’s paper.
Spring love stays in to watch February’s movies.
You were not at the park with your tan and carefree play.
I did not approach with junebugs in my hand.
The sun makes its cameo.
The swings and slide take their antidepressants.
Flowers eat their young
Swallowing mundane vases.
By the window…counting endlessly,
Damn its too late to be raining.
we're getting rain when it should be snow -~- awesome, Blaine. structure - was there. staccato images, in my mind, depict a grand imagination. care, Goldy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very well written poem with great imagery/metaphors. Hugs Anna xxx