📕🖋️ POETRY #79

in #poetry7 years ago

WHAT IS THE RAIN , THEN ?

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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?

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"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.