Friday, September 25, 2009

Crying in the Rain

Crying in the rain, under the silent oak trees,
Cool drops from heaven, meeting warm streaks down her face,
Soaking wet, from an afternoon drizzle,
Still, unmoving, in her contemplative posture.

I came upon her, as the shower ceased,
Cheeks flushed, eyes red, an expression betraying her sadness,
She flashed a faint smile, masking her tears,
But still, a look of misery was painted all over her complexion.

"My gosh, dear. What happened to you?"
Her reply was a polite smile and a simple "Nothing..."
I sat next to hear, on the dew-covered bench,
No words came, a lingering silence hovered.

"Do you wanna go somewhere?"
"Sure, where do you wanna go?"
"Let's take a walk around the city."
"Okay, let's..."

A long, slow walk around the city,
Lumbering past the mundane streets, shuffling along the fresh, green grass,
Trudging past children in their playful wonder, past teens in their game of catch,
Shoes scraping the humid soil, pushing against the dry asphalt.

In a warm-cosy room, facing the dull yellow sunset,
The plush, cushioned seats, the large, fluffy pillows,
Reclining to rest, closing my eyes,
Whispering muffled prayers, my mind spacing out.

Awaking to find her staring out through the invisible glass, peering into the tranquil cityscape,
Tearing through my mental veil, chasing away the sleepy haze,
I gazed, too, on the pallid portrait of this peaceful part of Melbourne,
Turning to her, I ventured an observation.

"You know, this is the first time I've seen you cry."
"You saw nothing, okay?"
"Alright, alright, sure...I saw nothing..."

The clock ticked on, amidst the silence once more,
As I pensively looked on at the miniature squares tracing smoothly down the empty streets,
The clock ticked on, I finally broke the stillness,
"It's alright to cry, you know..."
"Life can be really difficult sometimes..."

This time she did not hold back, 
The tears she fought hard to suppress came streaming down her features,
Her face sank into the warm, fluffy pillow,
Her sadness finally free to find expression in the tenderness of the moment.

Holding her gently on her shoulders,
My face pressed against the cold, hard, table in front of me,
My heart whispering softly to her,
"It okay to cry,'s okay to cry..."

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