A dropp of rain on my window pain slowly rolled and sipped through the architrave unto windows stained jamb.
Most of it falls down hard from a thatched roof where two cats pussyfooting from dusk until dawn.
Early morning yet the sun lurks behind the dark clouds, the sun can’t shine its light through fields of a fading tulips.
All is gray and lifeless as every pace to a
century old bricked road and a single hold
to my Charlie Chaplin like, black umbrella.
A little stroll with the use of bike might do if
the rain didn’t fall down, but what can I do
here comes the crying rain again.
In spite of a gray morning some faces could
still rise and shine, with a simple hello, here
and there, positively every one could face a
gloomy day with a smile.
Whisked my umbrella on the side of the wall
inside Resenmare cafeneaua where I always
go for a morning cafea and piine.
With a table for two, a mouthful spoon of piine
and none choking sipped of cafea, then all is
set for a conversation or two.
Walk in the middle of the rain gripping tight unto
my fluttering umbrella, turned the latched door
and I am bound home again to a crib where full
warmth of secrecy and thousands of caresses
on every room.
Sited at the couch on a rainy Sunday morning
with a mug full of hot chocolate beside my
console, then I am all set for a book reading
while waiting for another noon to come.
I guess this is how a rainy morning usually breaks.
1804*
Catt^
catty Alonzo
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-morning-chronicle/
