The Rain is gain


The rain, not pain, for me it’s gain
though wet, no fret resides in tête,
it stirs, mind whirs and nothing blurs
so near thoughts clear, the droplets dear
for each, they breach my soul and teach
that gloom can bloom a depth consume
such tales on sails just flow in gales
but time to rhyme not just sublime
must be so free to write with glee
or then, the pen will lose the Zen
and thoughts, mere knots reduced to dots
will break and quake til for my sake
i’ll pause for cause with no applause
unless I bless some time for yes
and write with might through day and night
til all will fall, the page enthrall
that rain, quite sane still in my vein
creates the traits my dream translates
and I can sigh, my work nearby
with grace, that pace was worth the race.

Paula Antonello Moore, Poetry. Copyright: Tuesday, July 21, 2015
And the Expressible Café’s 200th POST. 😉

Illustration by Mad FX Studio