deepundergroundpoetry.com
Seeing the Rain
If they do not know what it is to see
The rain from my window, then they will miss
The way you have me held, yet fast and free;
And take the rainfall in as you'd take bliss;
Snow falls, as do my letters stained with tears;
Sleet does not know what it is to see:
The undeliverable: those winter fears
That will not permeate: best leave them be;
Who'd mend the jigsaw, after lost souls flee?
Who'd repair damage in the aftermath,
If they do not know what it is to see
The pleasure in my eyes, at your bold laugh?
We rejoice in our clamour, as we seek
A joyful union where love is free;
If silent lust must rule, who would dare speak,
If they do not know what it is to see...
The rain from my window, then they will miss
The way you have me held, yet fast and free;
And take the rainfall in as you'd take bliss;
Snow falls, as do my letters stained with tears;
Sleet does not know what it is to see:
The undeliverable: those winter fears
That will not permeate: best leave them be;
Who'd mend the jigsaw, after lost souls flee?
Who'd repair damage in the aftermath,
If they do not know what it is to see
The pleasure in my eyes, at your bold laugh?
We rejoice in our clamour, as we seek
A joyful union where love is free;
If silent lust must rule, who would dare speak,
If they do not know what it is to see...
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