Changes of Season

It seems like forever and ever since I wanted to bring rain for you, cold soft healing rain and falling, over the toumbstonoes and trees, over your hands, into the rivers, stirring the dried beds and leaves and you...

I stand alone in the rain with my face turned to the ashen clouds and I can't tell if I'm crying...

So many things I don't understand, I would ask you but I can't find you and the rain is coming down, washing out your tracks and the places we fell into, flowing like water...

If "I love you" were a stone I would build an island in a lake and we could sit and watch the patterns made by the ripples and hear the hissing of a million million tiny drops through our silent conversations...

The wind blows, the rain falls, the weather changes and you dissapear again... I don't think I can keep up with your changes of season.

Notes: this isn't written in strictly poetic style; it's actually several long sentence-paragraphs. I still like it, though.

Back to the George poem index

Back to the main poetry index

Flee the poetry