RAIN

whispers to me
your secret.

It tells me

of the seeds
in your pockets

and the clouds
in your hair

and it tells me

it can draw
you out

of your dry place
for a price.



Of course I know

the price
but I dimiss it

and the rain
sets out to find you

and I wait

soaked.



I dry in the rays

of the sun
when the rain returns

without you

it says nothing
only indicates

the ground at my feet
a tulip sprouts

and blooms

before me.



I am reminded

of your return