Cloud Seeding
For thirty years, I made clouds in the sky.
Between abstract ideals, youth’s naiveté
became its own demand to keep a lie.
Whichever weakness colored those clouds gray,
romantic levees were all washed away,
but no corrosive puddle could defame
the kiss of rainbows lightning each last day.
For every summer’s storm has left the same
eroded scars, a memory’s braille of her name.
Copyright © Rob Carmack | Year Posted 2018
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