The Rain
You who fall - without guidance;
On the streets that never drink the water,
Washing the sidewalks from the muddy footsteps,
Tapping tears on the glass windows,
Clicking the closed doors.
Implanting seduction in the ugly faces
And falling as a homeless child
into wars that sow death
as on the bodies of the victims
Ah. Dear rain...
If I could tell where you go!
If I could tell how you sleep!
Copyright © Fatima Nusairat | Year Posted 2015
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