The Heavy Rain Last Night
the roofs never had
the time to sleep and
in darkness the fingers
of all nails keep
themselves in the
side pockets of
the beams
the rivers rise like
a platform for driftwoods
and leaves and
coconuts in a
fast parade
as a little boy watches
the show
and then
the frogs' hands begin
to clap
the crickets are not
in the mood for
singing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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