Sometimes the rain doesn't sting so much
and the women are beautiful
Giggly and quick, beads of glass
glued to the faces as they scurry inside
They all wear black because
it looks good in the rain

Hair sticks to noses,
and feet slip on steps when the doors need an extra pull
I stroll past side walks and homes
Breathing deep the low clouds as they scrape
Their bellies on fence posts and roofs
It's then, when I'm soaking it up,
That the women are beautiful

Dark blouses get darker, a circle at a time
The rain doesn't sting at all
Everything shines, and the air is thick enough for taste buds
Sometimes the only thing out of place
is intent, So I bend with the rain,
and watch the beautiful women scurry inside
I wonder what they think about
as they change out of wet clothes.......

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...