📕🖋️ POETRY #79
WHAT IS THE RAIN , THEN ?
Those sketches I drew on holidays
Often past midnight
Of ducks and daisies
grass and creepers
roses, rabbits, rainbows
And picked them out
In silken thread
With a painstaking needle
On your muslin garments
Every stitch a joy
Were they in vain , then ?
When little treasures diligently hunted
In obscure shops
Across the globe
To put together
A gift to make you smile
With labour carried
To your door
Were offered
Were you in pain , then?
Small arms
So helpless to reach
A door knob
Assisted
Bright eyes
That knew not
How to lie
Reflecting smiles,
and toothless laughter
A trusting hand
Securely held
To cross the road
A fear allayed
A doubt explained
A story told
A daisy chain , then ?
Never mine
But for long so loved
So invested with happiness and hope
So prayed for
So blest
The flower of so much sacrifice
What did we gain, then ?
What motivates those acts that seek no gain?
What is the cost and what the price of hope
However misplaced
Or joy
However unfounded
Who can explain, then ?
Birds fly
Flowers bloom
Then die
No why
Clouds
Float by
What is the rain, then?
"What is the rain then?" is definitely my favorite part of this poem. its very powerful, and kind of reminds me of the feeling i get from the Grace Vanderwaal song she wrote "I dont know my name". Like youve forgotten that is so standard and innate. I like it - something very poetic about that.