What is like
an empty raindrop
falling down
on a parched field:
tempting and misleading?
It's almost like a
bubble,
but heavier,
offering no relief,
not able to quench any thirst;
just pretty.
It glistens as it
falls toward you,
down to you,
from Heaven.
It must be bliss.
It has to bring comfort,
and ease to this dry land.
But it barely splashes,
almost shatters
or pops.
What sound does
it bring as it
caresses your skin?
What sound does
this hollow rain make?
Is it silent like
snow?
Or does it truly
sound like bubbles popping?
Maybe it sounds like
carbonated water,
freshly pored:
a very very faint hopping. barely
barely heard. What
reminds me of this empty
rain, tempting but misleading?
What is as beautiful,
yet still insincere?
It smells of rain,
clean, sweet, moist,
but is it rain?
It gives no refreshment
no life, just pleasure
shortlived pleasure
and simple beauty.
It sounds like love.
2 comments:
Dearest Jenny... are you a cynic? Or have I misinterpreted your poem?
no, I'm not a cynic, just making observations, I do have cynical streaks, which, I guess, are highlighted here. This is just sort of my perseption, my view of any type of love less than that described in 1 cor. 13.
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