Young and Beautiful
Sipping frothy espressofrom a high window table
at a very dry little cafe
waiting for the afternoon rain clouds
to let loose their afternoon rain drops,
I see a young and beautiful boy
and a young and beautiful girl,
strolling down the sidewalk across the street
hand in hand and obviously
ah, very quite obviously in love.
Leaning and giggling,
kissing and touching
afraid to take their eyes off each other
even for one July instant,
laughing away a summer day
because there are oh so many more to follow.
At the blinking corner crosswalk,
waiting in the narrow shade of a street sign,
they steal kisses back and forth.
And just then the sky flashes purple, purple, purple
and grey-grumbles, grumbles, grumbles.
A few staccato drops tap-darken the sidewalk
And the surly summer sky lets loose
its rain with surly summer abandon.
The young and beautiful girl shrieks
and drops the young and beautiful boy's hand
and dashes across the street
for the yellow-striped awnings of my little café.
And there, in the middle of the road,
the young and beautiful boy,
alone and wet, and racing to catch up,
a few splashing steps behind.
Poetry by Rapscallion
Read 1009 times
Editors' choiceWritten on 2009-07-11 at 08:33
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Editorial Team |
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Rob Graber |
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liz munro |
