Passing showers by John Matthew
Yesterday a passing, transient shower,
Slaked my thirst so gently, softly,
Showers in March are unheard â€”
In this arid part of the world.
They say the world is dying, I know,
I remember how you said love died,
It was a passing shower, a fancy,
That left you cold and shivering.
This distance, these wired networks,
Couldnâ€™t bring your love to you,
You became strangers, distances apart,
The eyes, too, misted with showers.
What are you holding in your heart â€”?
Which you canâ€™t tell me in stealing time,
What is it that your sorrowing soul,
Keeps wrapped in the mystery of your words?
Friend, your world is far removed,
I can only view the receding landscape,
Of another womanâ€™s deep distress,
Is it much to expect the showers to pass?
If you come out of the fort, step over the moat,
Open your heart and cry in the rain,
I am sure the passing showers will cease,
And usher in the blossoms of spring!