Sunday, August 7, 2016

A storm over my head

How did you storm my head? come charging like hail 
you are not a God, who then, 
gave you access to formulate clouds 
like little cotton gather them then start 
to make it rain, where buckets overflow 
to the music of tapping, a drop upon another 
who gave you the ingredients of rain
had you not collected them from my own sweat and tears
who did you talk to behind my back, love?

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