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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=549768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Day of Celibate Rain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=549768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Day of celibate rain, <br>Stamping the tomfoolery of birds<br>To the line.<br>Maybe the last time I saw your eyes<br>Was in high school graduation-<br>You said goodbye, <br>And now the rains, they keep up what the<br>Customers should, <br>They dampen boxes and wet wood.<br>And I know your name<br>While the airplanes go leaping, <br>Leaping on the weathered planes; <br>But it is so lonely not having you here, <br>And the rain makes me realize just how absolutely <br>Good it is to be alone, <br>Without a son drafted from your silver<br>Womb, <br>Without a plumber for his tomb: <br>And I want to think of your eyes somewhere<br>In the curtains of this weather, <br>But your eyes are good and gone<br>And making their own celebrating where<br>No poinsettias can grow, <br>But where the tourisms grow so much that they’ve<br>Become fanciful with their own generations, <br>And where it doesn’t rain<br>It snows.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>

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