And still it rains


And still it rains though the damage is done
The sky still weeps its useless tears.
You went with drama and slamming of doors
Forgetting the love and all the years
Shared beneath this trembling roof.
You charged into the storm’s wild maw
Not wasting time to don your coat
To leave our dreams behind the door
Despite the raging of the elements.
Though thunder rumbled still you left
You stopped your ears when I cried your name
As if my very presence made you flinch
Like naked flesh touched by a dancing flame.

Or was it just shame?


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

6 thoughts on “And still it rains”

    1. Thanks for the whopping compliment Carole, especially for the painting. Actually it’s by some bloke called Constable 🙂 Good, isn’t it? Impressionistic.

      1. I wouldn’t call it ignorance Carole, only if you set yourself up as an art critic. For me Constable is cows in meadows, trees and rivers. This painting is not at all like that, reminds me more of Turner. I’d never have guessed it was Constable.

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