The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
I sat on the park bench,
Bored,
Waiting for a friend,
With my phone battery dead;
Alone in a cage with my thought-lions
Waiting to tear me apart.
I sat on the park bench,
Bored
And I saw it;
A leaf at my feet,
Too large to belong to the cherry trees around me.
A leaf at my feet
With a little puddle of rain in it,
Glowing like plastic.
A leaf at my feet,
With small drops on the edges,
Glowing like pearl,
Like purity,
Like a tear shed on a good day,
At a good time,
For a good reason.
There was an old cry
When the wind moved it gently.
I looked around to find the tree
It came from.
But my friend came,
And I asked him for a power bank.
And I write this poem now
When I suddenly remembered the leaf,
Sitting on my bed
With the phone battery dead.
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