The Red Umbrella

So much depends on a red umbrella the metallic grey skies that open up and cry so they become waterfalls. Your feet stay dry, yet you notice the the streets turn to streams, but you stay safe under your little piece of refuge... So much depends on the tiny wishing well-like puddles forming on the sidewalk transforming into pools Everything becomes the color of sadness, sky moans and groans. sounds like a stomach ache maybe something he ate I hate the rain, but none of that matters because of this tiny umbrella So much of me depends on this small, blush-colored of a thing that provides an intangible feeling of warmth and protection So much depends on a red umbrella.