A poem for those who enjoy such things. It is untitled, so you’re welcome to name it whatever you like. I wrote it during a day I came to Akron with Jessie while she had class. It was difficult to find somewhere quiet enough to work, and as I felt the tugging of words I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to write something, be it story or poem. So I found a lone bench in a secluded area of the campus and made myself comfortable. This is what came out. And it wasn’t raining, as the poem implies, it was actually a very hot, humid day. I find it interesting how our physical experience is sometimes in no way related to the things we create.
Enjoy.
As the clouds grew gray
We rushed toward the silent street
And found our place between lines of yellow and white
We were given water for our thirst
And a renewed passion
For knowing the things that can never be known
We tried our best to catch the rain
Intertwined fingers closing gaps between skin
Water coursed through lines in faces not yet made
Too young in age and mind to not believe in dreams
To each drop we gave a name
That ran like water from our tongues
As we spoke it aloud
And when our hands became full with life
We watched it flow out towards the ground
Falling, landing, but never breaking
Becoming one with the only life there’s ever been
