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It rains. It's cool. I'm used to that.
It's how it was when we were in
Australia. It's still winter there.
The clouds obscure the sun and
Muffle its unwanted, shrill demands.
I came into this world on this date
Sixty-three years ago, and, through
Those years, I've fled from this.
I've run to that. Now I am still.
There isn't much left to be done.
The sun will reappear and nag,
And I will flee or run again,
But, for the moment, I will let
The clouds hang low and coddle
Me, the rain providing calming music,
Tapping on the window panes,
The way it did when I was young,
And I grew used to that.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 85 times
Written on 2016-09-13 at 18:04

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