Bolivian Rain

Bolivian rain
flooding the gutters
with urgent ennui,
muddy brown flower petals
that tumble somersaults
in a chaotic trance
to the curb where they
plateau--stranded--
how you dance on
the cobblestones
and shy softly in my ears
of a distant river.
You hold my hand as
I stand with the woman
of three colors.
Under her shelter the
weather smells like spiny mint
and her bridge of braid
attracts drops and haze
and her grace is a halo
of exhaust and mist,
and her eyes
are a grey mirror
beckoning you back.

 

Sweet nuances, full of grace.

 

what a fantastic finish... great poem girl, very good atmosphere to it, earthy... I enjoyed much! good to read some new stuff!