Poetry

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The early rain inscribes, tirelessly,
patterns of condensed thoughts and reveries
in these forest leaves sun-bathed in April.

(many are ballads-poetic,
romantic,
lyrical.
A heartbroken
haiku.
And hymns
the lovebirds keep reminiscing
to each other)

till the still-drowsy sun,
erases those memories from
the graying, sagely clouds

While the youthful wisps still wait
for the wild waves of the sea
to tell their latest tales of sailors and lovers
in their journeys.

Then, when wisdom is enough,
The rain can write again.

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