A little water could never hurt you
she would say,
dressing me in my elementary
yellow rain slicker,
ready for the day,
the walk to school close enough
to see the morning smoke from the ovens,
the menu for the day.
~
I remember searching for puddles along the way,
a splash here
always in the timing pushing the water away,
rather than a clean pair of trousers
walking into school,
fresh and ready for the day.
~
Already then I’d begun to feel displaced,
like my world didn’t match up,
the kids around me
all my friends,
at least that seemed the case
when in elementary school,
measures are rather naivé
to suggest any otherwise
might be construed
a settlement in which we must
somehow disagree
safe face
prideful disregard
for that intellect
calls upon our soul
to know one another
rather than destroy
each other.
~
All these mild storms
we experienced on and all
different degrees of severity,
until one afternoon,
when looking in her eyes,
we did realize
love.
~
Oh such is the mystery
how our body responds internally
some force of nature
a driving passion,
this,
our ability to know something is beautiful
outside the norm
we are taught to live within,
always unexpected
because that is the way we have been
taught,
to not anticipate,
instead,
be grateful for that we might
feel.
~
I choose the rainstorms today,
for I believe in the hours ahead
will be a moonlight
a soft lantern in the sky,
lights up that mystique
lets eyes search forever.
© Scott F Savage 8/2020
apersonaljourney - stories of love 