Rain As I Kissed You
Some hate it they say, in a myriad of ways. F- in rain, piss – in rain, damn rain go away, why did you chose to fall today.
Accused and vilified as destroyer of bobs, dreaded by weaves, it mats the hair leaving a tangled pile as though a house were ransacked by thieves.
Stylists understand and stand ready, comb in hand.
I see it as enhancing a woman’s beauty. So to educate all, curse me not, I must defend my duty.
Far above where clouds are forming, barometric pressures are rising as others are falling.
The back and forth of these mighty systems are forming moisture, as ice crystals begin their elegant dance. If you could see things from where I am; know now this is not by chance.
Twirling about like waltzing is a beautiful thing; or milling and hopping as that jitterbug fling.
Layer upon layer, clustering about. Like a sandstorm gathering its minions as it rushes mindlessly out.
Not savagely the eloquent dance of ice crystals begins, holding each other close while being joined by friends. Till burdened by their own numbers, earthward they plummet, sometimes accompanied by an orchestra of thunder.
Meanwhile earth walkers.
Darling, sweet precious gift from the heavens above, every thing about you is perfection, you need never lift a cap to cover the beauty upon your head.
Appreciation is likely due you, your efforts to survive are my satisfaction. This back to natural living I beseech you help it gain traction.
Society demands we conform to a norm, did women every where rage at the storm. It’s life giving moisture is necessary for life, it is time someone stood up for rains unalienable right.
Walking from a salon or perhaps the local mall, new “dew”, or latest shoes what have we become.
Dearest, rain is a nutrient as your body knows, cleansing your body of whatever shows.
Do I lobby in defense of multiple snows, when the wind howls I merely enhance a free show.
Every hair upon your head is beauty defined, a little kiss from me can sometimes change your mind.
Think on this, the first drop is a nuzzle, not much to this; a deluge is unbridled passion, sending you to bliss.
My endless soaking, a continued assurance I will love you over time.
Poetry “risqué” Thursday