Rain

I don’t write about flowers
or love, or the embrace of a lover
because so many
do this so wonderfully
that I would rather read
their version of beauty
than replay mine
Instead I write about
how rain watches me
Eyes dangling, while falling
but cannot speak what is seen
-Who was I to ever think
rain could not see
And yet I step in puddles-
When I finally look down
I see myself in wavering form
for each puddle proves how
wrong I had been

-M. Taggart