The evening is doused with gentle rain
Life throbs and fills worlds within worlds
Behind closed lids a tear forms and stays
Far away a heart tends to a memory
Perhaps this is how love’s forest is nurtured
And how it grows in silence.
Apart from imagery, what I love immensely about poetry is ‘movement’. The way one can cross distance, otherwise impossible, in the span of a few lines. The ease with which the unspeakable flows, like rain water, replenishing the very soil it rose from.
PS: Since songs are now becoming inherent to the poetry posts, this evening let’s go with The Sky is Crying by Gary B. B. Coleman and pine for imaginary rain.