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A Light Morning Rain
Folder:
I Walk Naked Into a Cloud
She arrives with
the freshness
of
a light morning rain.
Lifting hand to
touch her.
Making sure
she is real
and not a cardboard
image.
Seeing
that maybe,
just maybe,
there is life
after a
failed marriage.
First the
grief work.
The blame and
the guilt.
Next resignation.
Acceptance.
This is the way
it must be.
Then she arrives.
Conversations
of experiences
mingling together.
She knows my
situation
because
it is also hers.
Age not only
brings wisdom.
Sometimes it
also brings
new
unions.
She flashes
across the
television set
of my
mind
like a marching
band
in a parade.
I think of her
when she is not
with me.
Anxious
to be with
her again.
She smiles
and I
feel better
about myself.
My place
in the scheme of
things
is not so
solitary anymore.
You always deliver a great
You always deliver a great poem...This is another one. There is hope after a failed marriage, I'm sure.
I also like your title.......heather