The Heavy Rain
the heavy rain makes you stop
and you knock on my door
and i open it, and then we
talk about a lot of things about
us, our family, our lands and
ways of surviving the hardships
of this present day life, i offer
you coffee and cookies and
we talk some more about
the future, politics and economics
and religion and philosophy and
poetry. And then the rain stops.
the conversation ends. You
say thank you.You are leaving
now. You are like the rain.
I am like the door. We are
like the conversations. And
we know when to stop and
where to begin again. It is
the heavy rain. It stopped.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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