Buckets of Rain...

The city basked in the mild yellow of the December sun-

Had a story to tell with each of its shady turn.

We walked hand in hand-through the sleepy lanes,

As the sun drew patterns of love down our backs-

We talked of our lives-their whites and blacks.

We painted the grey town with the bloody red of our hearts,

We saw our faces glow with the burnt red ecstasy-

We set forth the beginning of our blue fantasy.

The day turned violet and the maroon hour turned wet-

We painted the town back to its grey,

So that the world wouldn’t know of the unnamed hour-

When our souls met.