The taste of it in the air,
the sound of it in my ears
Trees whisper their content,
a~sigh of sound as if they dreamt.
I See Grey Sky's teardrops.
Sweet caresses on their tops...
Rivulettes run down the hills,
Black rain in murky tendrils,
sliding down the contours,
In twos and threes and,
The water sings in~a shattering peal
The 'ping' of rain on army steel, strange appeal.
But none to stop and listen
Cos someone's boy is missin`.
The pinging, shattering, sliding ceases
As they say quick goodbyes, for back home his daughter it pleases.
Rivulets run down the hills,
Black tears in murky tendrils,
sliding down the contours.
More fall in twos and threes and,
The black is because of the smoke in the air and the dirt on their faces, it's making
something as wonderful as rain seem bad.
Copyright © Keabetswe Molotsi