May Time

Do you notice, how it has just
stopped raining, and the air is colder,
smothering us in fresh sharpness,
the exquisite slapping of our shoes
against the wet ground, the light
dripping of cool rain, fish-like,
from the silvery tree tops,
the faint calmness?

Do you notice, how the leaves fall
from the trees, abstracted,
almost lackadaisical, awating
the firm ground to steady their
beauiful leaf lives,
awaiting that defining moment between take-off
and touch-down, between
emancipation and recapture?

Do you notice, how we are lost,
but not really, our souls searching for each other,
the taxis' cries haunting, Us in complete oblivion,
of the stopping rain,
the red umbrella lying forgotten on the sidewalk,
beneath cold excited fingers and
the wails of panicked ambulances?

Or were you wrapped up in your own world,
where there is not You, nor I, but only
the neon-lights in the television-dulled
dark, where Sheep are plenty, a world in
which there could never be,
You, nor, Me,
nor Us.

by Ballerina With Fins

Other poems of WITH FINS (67)

Comments (2)

A very beautiful and profound poem. Your imagery is wonderful and very original. Ten for this without hesitation. Kindest regards, Sandra
The absolute isolation of each and every scene is indescribable. In the end, all we have are the blinding lights, flickering, flickering, flickering, gone. Lost in this tangled maze of paradoxes, we never notice. Anything. Beautifully done, Ballerina.