Next Time It Rains Poem by Gladys Ombati

Next Time It Rains

The wind blows; sometimes it thunders,
I see the whirlwinds; as rapid as
what is in my heart; violent activities
Of the soul, in agreement with the mind.
And just suddenly; clouds turn grey
As pale as my face at that moment.

They keep saying rain is ugly.
I'm not sure how I look when I cry;
I think, it's just as it rains
And it pours with its might; destroying yet restoring.
Do you cry to destroy memories and cherish some?
I paint the picture of rain in me.

Its waters go down the hills, sometimes trapped as floods.
Tears down my cheeks to the ground; some in my hankies
And after the painful destruction; I sleep in.
Waiting for a great sunshine and fall.
An illuminated smile on my face after the cry;
So amazing is the flowers' glamour; the colour.

I'll let the rain touch me, next time it rains.
We understand each other's language
And, I'll know exactly when it's destructive or constructive
For I know the beauty it holds within.
Brings life to all that ought to live
And makes the sweetest of dreams real again!

Friday, February 10, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: heartbreak,life,love,pain,sorrow
Linet Sabastian 12 February 2017

I enjoyed reading this

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Gladys Ombati 15 February 2017

Thanks Linet!

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