Sprinkle

 

            You are my thoughts

Of objectivity,

Yet, emotions invade,

Conduct a requiem insistent

Upon a Man touched by an

Immovable fate.

 

            Thinking atop the

Hour, a flower begs ‘be brave,

For stillness in a heart

Prematurely stopped, be

Neither mine nor your death,

An end.’

           

The rain falls persistently

Down the window,

Subjectivity returns,

Emotions cathartic

Floods, purge once again.

 

Michael J Waite 0246hrs Saturday the 21^st February 2009