Memories Poem by Maabud Rahman

I lie in the field; a warm breeze running through my skin and shards of grass and clover leaves pushing against my arms and legs. A flower is between my thumb and index finger. Mom scales up the staircase and leans against it, holding on to the step she sits on. We stay in our positions for who-knows how long, TV sounds and in the place of our silence. I see the clouds settling on the horizon from the open window, slowly inching towards the horizon. I stay lying down, daring the rain to come. Eventually, though, raindrops land on my head through the window, a tiny drop of a bleeding rainbow. Mom slides down the staircase. 'It's raining.' The raindrops flow down my face like tears, yet colder and more comfortable. 'It's okay.' 'It's raining, ' Mom repeats, leaning against the staircase again. 'And that means we have to go outside because...''Because...''My point exactly.' I lie stationary on the floor, twirling the flower with my fingers. Mom lies down next to me. The rain hits both of our faces, and they slither down my arm like tiny streams of rainbows. I hand her the flower and she grins; it catches the rain and twinkles like Mom's eyes. 'What do you call moments like these? ' Mom asks, examining the flower close to her beautiful face. 'Memories, ' I whisper to the sunny air, ages later, in that same cold, hard floor, but with no Mom next to me this time.