Softly … come softly … come the rain
in grays and blues.
The winter’s wind, the closed out sky.
I’m here … waiting … for the rain,
I’ve been here for years
waiting for this season to wash me clean.
Somewhere … beyond the rain
lies Leningrad and Mexico City,
Vancouver and Australia.
Time to let the rain wash me away
from these people and places
that tie me down in a changing world.
I want to be a Buddha or a Saint
or a madman … I want to be something
no more waiting and rusting in the rain.
Such faces and turmoil …
cultures and insights
wait for me … alone.
gallagher
2 Jan 86
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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on Thursday, January 2nd, 1986 at 12:04 am and is filed under 1986, Irvine.
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