Daily Archives: 27 February 2014

Raindrops fall
Fast, wet, calm.
My vision is clouded,
But my car knows the way home.

I miss the exit,
Then take the wrong one.
My vision blurs,
But my car knows the way home.

My heart descends
Into sorrow and sadness.
At last, with no connection,
I must have found my cocoon:

The crawling of my skin
Must result from falling in.
Clouds cry,
And I shudder.

And my car returns
To where I would have been
Were the day drier,
The weather fairer.

Trying to numb the pain,
I miss my turn
When my focus falters.
But my car, it knows.

With the press of a button,
The shelter called home
Opens to protect
My car from the falling rain.

Inside, wipers run
To clear the remaining
Drops of rain
From the windshield.

Another button press
And the door descends
To shield and protect.
I turn off the engine,

Keep the music playing,
And release the pain.
I let it course
Through my veins,

Overwhelm my brain.
I feel wetness in my eyes
Streams of water on my cheeks.
For tears I’m too vain;

How can the wetness be explained?
There must be a leak in my house,
A leak in my car,
Letting in some rain.

I head inside, the moisture stops.
Sitting in my writing chair,
I put down some thoughts.
Writing done, I discover another leak.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore