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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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A long wait


 The blue shutter with much graffiti,

The hanging bulb dripping after the rain,

The bicycle with flowers in the basket,

Waiting...

For the rider to hand it over

To the right person;

That one person who'll take a whiff

And appreciate them

Whether they actually have the aroma

Or not.

But the rider doesn’t come...

And the flowers gather dew and rain.

But that rider doesn’t come..

And the little aroma there was is gone.

The blue shutter with much graffiti,

The hanging bulb dripping after the rain,

And the flowers in the bicycle...

Tired of waiting...

Only Waiting

For death

Now.


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