a poem by Jeremy C Kester
Standing above the rain-blown streets,
Dry as a passer-by loses hold.
A victim of the horrid wind,
An umbrella spun inside out.
Another just like hers.
Then another cornered on the other side.
Another and again.
One could laugh at this.
One after three.
People trying to shield from the rain,
To be blasted from their defense.
And they stand trying to gather,
Why should one bother at this point.
Just let the rain cleanse and soak.
One would be glad for it.
Wet hair is sexy after all.
But we care too little for that.
So more walk by,
Taking the same fate.
Poem written by Jeremy C Kester
©2020 Jeremy C Kester – All Rights Reserved