|
| |
Like A Monsoon Rain
If someone handed you a box with everything in it that you had ever lost
what is the first thing you would look for?
Holiest of things that I could never recapture
like the feel of dad's hand in mine
on a warm summer day when all the world was
time ...
A most sacred memory wrapped in tissue
settled deep inside a box safely locked
Underneath my bed a tarnished locket
that wasn't even mine...
The child within me, the one that got away
nineteen and gone too soon
A monsoon rain that September remembers
soaked and filled with longing,
The face of youth
my brother's Marco Polo voice
inside a chlorinated pool
just before he died
Copyright ©
Mystic Rose Rose
|
|