Morning Rain and Wet Grass.


Slipping on my bare feet upon the grass

that never deeply felt the lapse of hours,

although from earth it’s wildly growing

open the gateway for tears

and also to new beginnings.


I live in waiting for the secret

that burn out my feverish glow

surrounding me so painfully,

aching in my dried chest,

trembling to survey the sobbing weakness.


The tiring dusk after the morning rain

that took my dreams away

and my deep glance into the future

that fluttered apart in the summer curtain

with all my Love’s image of desire,

the breath of everything.


I lay my understanding, my sensitivity

into the flourish meadow I know,

that never withers, never gets old

never forgets the wreath I made,

of love for your tousled hair

and for feeling

your contagious smile.


©August 2016 k.c.