Hopelessly I stand
curls plastered to my skull
the bus stop
sprouting mushroom umbrellas
each passing bus
that doesn't stop
splashing us
...we curse.
But I inhabit
a parallel universe
of rain
when I was nine
much more real
than this
the rain my friend
its fingers
caressing
my upturned face
curls plastered
to my skull
walking hand
in hand
with June
warmed as I am
now
by her lips
laughter
still my name
forever living
in her smile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the romantic of your poems is very natural and spontaneous - like a summer rain - it washes the old memories and faces - it somehow makes the world a better place...love it