When the rains came

First came the tears
from thick gray clouds
desperate to not be alone,
then the sighing winds
painting every last inch
of sidewalk black and slick,
the puddles tempting targets
to child-sized galoshes and
raincoats like a second skin.
You asked if I’d be all right.
I told you not to worry.
But if you were here with me
behind this umbrella’s curtain
I’d wish you were at home
where the rain is a foreign hum,
out of sight and out of mind.



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