A recent downpour has showered the deck.
I perch here with bare feet,
one foot lightly kissing the shiny wood,
the other balancing across my knee -
toes flirting with the wind.
Rain drops, with condemned fear in their eyes, hang
from the cold metal bars in front of me,
necks fighting gravity.
The dark urbanised sky drifts above me
concealing enquiring stars from my eyes.
Here, I too am hidden.
A part of the world's natural order
and yet an onlooker, inspired and safe.
It's me and my jotter.
You once sat here with your roll-ups and smiles
commenting on this urban miracle.
Its portal of secrets.
We lived out forgotten dreams for a night
knowing that dawn's abrupt reality
was planning his ambush.
Police sirens arouse me from my thoughts.
Beating lights flash upon the droplets, still
somehow clinging for life.
Only now when I am alone like this
and the rain begins to thud down, blotting
the paper with hot tears…
Perhaps I loved you more than you loved me.
And the drops well up and fall from the bars,
I’m going inside now.
The sky is weeping.
My words are the sponge.