I was sitting on a rocking
chair at the balcony with my
hands gripping a cup of warm tea;
it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon
and I was descending to the depth
of my thoughts trying to lift an
anchor inside of me as I welcome
the rain to come and sit with me.
I thought I'd be able to catch
the golden rays of sun with you as
it sets on the eastern horizon—
we used to do this a year ago,
but now the rain sounded like
an old song serenading an old love,
comforting a tired soul in sorrow.
It's getting cold as I reach my
lips to the brim of my cup to sip
and the longer I sit, the colder it gets.
I miss your hugs in times like this,
and when dawn becomes another day,
I'd think of you as the rain who sat
with me and left a morning dew.
YOU ARE READING
Blued Lines
PoetryTo those whose heart has been ripped apart, you're not alone in the boat. If you think that poets write wonderful lines and echoing endings, then you got it wrong because we also get broken and as you read each poem, the sadder and painful it become...
