Her love is like the rain,
so you stay inside looking out
the windows of your memories
you smile
a group of kids in the tropics
they’re dancing in the mist
sandals clap and splash too
run on water
it grumbles in the gray sky
it strikes unexpectedly
electric poles frighten
they buzz.
Two groups of young men wait
upon the rain, they play street foutbòl
shirtless, sweat, rain, and hormones
the ladies spectate
an inconvenience to your fragility
blessings evaporate to the clouds
heat resigns; hardship remains
the world is thirsty
but Her love is like the rain.
A tap on a leaf’s open palm
it nods. The tears wash away
there’s freshness in the air.
Won’t you come out, now?
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