Rocco Parisella Poet Rhyme

RAIN

RAIN

The storm has come
The long grass sway
In panic throws
Their blades give way
But she has come
To rapture those
Their wrists
Their throats
Like beating drums
Her throne is there 
Above the hills
Her loosened hair
Like blood, she spills
Upon the sills
Upon the stairs
Upon the roads
Her mist like Mare
Crescents carved 
In clay, by hoof
Those too slow
Lay underfoot
A tangled mane
Her fingers strain
She runs and rides
Across the roofs
She calls the lakes
The river's wake
To drown the plain 
To flood the wood
She has come
The long grass sway
She has come
So has the rain

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