Rain Will Not Be Left Out In The Cold

She brings it in with her,

the rain,

clung to the tip of her nose

and through her hair

so it’s blacker than night.

 

Strips out of her waterproofs

till she has shape.

Colour,

risen high in her cheeks,

on the knuckles of her hands.

 

Reveals the desperation of it,

crept through

zips and openings.

Slid a caress down her neck

till she bears a collar of its touch.

 

Trails it deeper into the kitchen,

Siren kettle

a song to sodden socked feet,

printing a vanishing trail

across the tiles.

dverselogo

17 Comments

  1. Loving this description of coming in from the rain…and a good drenching at that! Smiled at the sodden sock feet leaving a trail 🙂

  2. A wonderful capture of coming in from the rain, Carol. I especially love the rain on her nose and in her hair, the colour in her cheeks, and the way it got in everywhere. My favourite lines:
    Siren kettle
    a song to sodden socked feet,
    printing a vanishing trail
    across the tiles.
    If it was me, my glasses would have steamed up!

  3. Ah, the siren sound of the kettle, so welcome after a good drenching! Good write.

  4. Your poem is a delight … I could feel the rain, my soaked socks, hear the kettle. Thank you!

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.