I'm thinking about him
this very moment
with my feet planted in the mud
like the roses before me.
Their feet are deep in the mud
and the water drips off their red, red petals
like tears that have trickled over lips
and fall to the earth
like hopeless wishes and dreams.
The clouds are big and white,
they mean a coming storm.
I guess I watered for nothing.
I head toward the house
and thunder rumbles in the skies.
I pause, look up.
It's like whispering a promise
in a deep, gruff voice.
I know there will be rain.
I know the flowers are well.
I know I will come,
because I've whispered a promise to him,
more solemn than the stars at night,
more strict than the sun,
more complete than the rain.
It covers me, the rain,
and I am drenched in promise
and I've never broken a promise.
For my Kyle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That is sweet Rebekah, thanks for sharing!