Like Rain

She comes to me like rain to a desert:
Rarely. In her wake, the flowers all
Blossom. Desolation ceases to be,
But she leaves so suddenly as she
Arrives, and she's absent for years.
The blossoms soon die, and the desert
Itself, once again without life,
Starts to wonder if she really came.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 47 times
Written on 2017-10-29 at 21:40

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Wonderful poem I thoroughly enjoyed reading, Larry. I've seen the desert before and after one of those storms, amazing how life waits for nourishment to blossom.

Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
This is a beautiful use of the metaphor. I like this poem very much.