Sunday, 2 September 2012

For when it Rains

Her hands are supple ,brave
She is not afraid to cry if
Ever she feels the need
Voice firm yet shaking just
Because the truth comes
In bits and pieces

Our hands are too quick to
drop the grains
We'll pick it up again
Nomads searching deserts we've
Made not knowing what we
held till we gave it all away

Please don't cry they say
Smile, you'll find happiness that way
She won't
Find daisies in the desert
Let the soul drink from
the untapped well of the heart
And perhaps from muddy palms
Will grow the seeds that will change
these worn desert paths

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