a storm I’ll never forget
I think of you in the most peculiar of times.
Yesterday in the coffee shop it began to rain.
I couldn’t help but compare the brief weather to you
and myself to the little wilted sprout
in a clay flowerpot hanging from the window frame.
How the droplets came down softly in the beginning,
and then all at once
joining the thunder.
I guess I gave you my heart too quickly.
At first you were gentle…
touching me ever so softly,
like how these droplets drip down the glass
into my cozy little pot.
You poured your love into me.
But then came the thunder,
suddenly I was being pounded by a storm
not realizing that it was you.
You were the torrential downpour
and the thunder that followed was your voice.
You yelled at me to grow.
How could you demand me to grow in such a hostile environment?
I tried my best but
I began to drown.
I knew that this habitat would keep me from growing
However I still blamed myself.
Why was my pot outside
Why couldn’t I handle the water
the part that you failed to understand is that
flowers bloom after a storm has passed.
Today, I glance out the same window of the coffee shop
to see the sprout in the little pot
is now a pink carnation,
little droplets remaining on her soft petals.
The storm had passed.
It was then that I realized the beauty of rain.