bronxnyc
Before
the heavy rain,
I like to sit and wait.
And I wish, with my umbrella,
To fly.
Quickly,
I search for hope.
And look for umbrellas,
And think of the people beneath:
Exiled.
Under
My umbrella,
I dream of better times.
And instead of thinking of rain,
I fly.
-Aissa, 2012
***
A collection of poems from Styles of The Heart for the Atty Awards 2012