Jim van den Bos
I love it when it pours,
Because I feel only then
That the streets understand
What is hidden away in me.
The tip-tapping of the drops,
Each one hitting everything,
Is the grey noise that calms
What my mind always screams.
The greyness of the sky
Is like a solemn blanket,
Shielding my present from
What the new normal is.
The coldness that seeps through
Silences my anger, frustration,
My disbelief and hopelessness—
It cools my silent anguish down.
But then, the sun breaks through,
And I have to do it again, again.
Beams of light project my smile—
Oh, how I like it when it pours.