The Way the Earth Sighed When Kissed by Falling Rain
Sometimes late at night, I dream of you,
Your soft touch, how your love caressed me
until all the noise, all the uncertainty would vanish.
The slow thump of your heart would be all that I heard,
a holy rhythm that rocked me to safety.
As my voice falters into only a croak of desperation
I can still feel the way you would trace my arm.
From freckle to freckle you memorized me,
a cartographer of my smallest truths:
I furrow my brow in concentration,
I rub my feet together in anxiety.
I had spoken about my mother,
but you held my broken soul in your hands,
staring at it while everyone else just nodded.
As I lay here trapped inside these
stark walls that gleam sterile and cold,
I am not thinking about the memories
whose alcoholic scent would burn my nose.
I lay here thinking about you.
I lived a life of laughter and soft mornings,
the clinking of glasses, the rustle of turning pages,
the swell of music carrying me through every chapter.
I stitched joy into the seams of my days,
waking up to a child's carefree laughter,
or the bloom of spring's first daffodil.
Now I imagine the warmth of sunlit grass beneath my feet,
your calloused hand slowly tracing my thumb,
the smell of wild honey carried by a summer breeze,
talking about the way the trees tickle our souls.
For you are the only one who sees the way
the earth sighs when kissed by falling rain.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
