A poem by Melissa Zamora
My body awoke to the stunning sound of rain tapping at my window sill,
But my soul was never at rest.
For the thoughts in my head continued to fritter away the day’s poison pill,
Passion oppressed.
Still, as I watched God’s weary water embrace the battered soils,
I took comfort in its innocence.
Long had I seen such true spoils,
As I yearned to be those blades of grass with their deliberate defense.
4 responses so far ↓
1 Melissa Zamora // May 21, 2008 at 6:47 am
Thanks, Stan, for the beautiful presentation of my poem.
2 Stan // May 21, 2008 at 9:34 am
Melissa,
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to present it. It’s a lovely, thoughtful piece. I enjoyed putting together a setting for it. A real of art for art’s sake.
-stan
3 Patricia A // May 21, 2008 at 9:56 am
My mouth waters at the thought of rain and this poem does that for me.
4 Stan // May 21, 2008 at 10:00 am
That’s a good way to put it.
And when do we see another poem from Ms. A?
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