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Loud Rain

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…
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Rest


 The bicycle left near the door

On the flower pots;

The tallest rose broken and hanging down.

Been there for days

And a cat sleeps all curled up.

Been there for days

And no one wants to steal it.

The bicycle left near the door

On the flower pots;

The tallest rose broken and hanging down.

The wind blows

And the wrapper on the handles shiver.

The sun glows

And takes out the paint

Bit by bit.

The bicycle left near the door

On the flower pots;

The tallest rose broken and hanging down.

And one day the rose will fall off

Onto those rusty spokes


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