ONLY WHEN IT RAINS
Every time the rain falls from the clouds,
I sense the presence of a shadow.
You're here again . . .
Youth fully grown.
You splinter my eyes with tears
that might well be raindrops
or rainbows,
showing me the white light inside the red.
Bits of the sky
comb themselves through my hair.
I feel them as your hands.
Your shadowy hands,
touching me with kindness.
Purity,
innocence,
flawlessness,
beauty,
all in an immortal thought.
How do you touch me with youth
when you are so old you are ageless?
How can you blush and be surprised
when you were around before all other shadows or rainbows?
And why do you come only when it rains?
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