Today it rained
and i thought of you.
How you’d happily take out the buckets
the jugs and plastic Gallons
filling each with rain
all at once --
filling each like pouring fresh dreams
into an empty soul.
But you’re not here
And who will pour these dreams
into my empty buckets now?
I am pretending exceedingly well
like you were never here but
I don’t want to see these familiar things
that have your imprints, your laughter and talks.
This miserable world was not good enough
to keep something as pure.
You’ve left ,
You had to leave
but these dreams of you--
like flowing water--
will they ever cease?
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