THE SUN WILL RISE LIKE A FIRE IN THE RAIN
My poem is a metaphor.
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We went swimming in total passion beneath the moonlight. The reflections of love drowned by the eye of God. Your attempts to dry me left me breathless, my reputation saved on the bridge before us.
I walk wondering why I deserved all this, tasting teardrops in the early morning rain. The storm it fills the lake beneath the bridge, leaving me downwind to its fresh scent.
Ladies of the evening tease the lake, their toes dangling from the bridge. The eye of God turns away. "Look at me gal, all I can do is tell you I'm sorry." "Look at me boy my lips are burning with fire, so is the bridge."
Can you get home by yourself from here?
I will try, I will try, I will never give up,
God will guide me from here.
The flames burn brighter,
I can see the lake clearly now.
Copyright © Vickie Hurtt - Thayer | Year Posted 2024
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