AFTER THE RAIN
After the rain of desire
remains the washed longings
amongst muded thougts.
Remains the clear drops of love
on the dried leaves of faith,
torn from the branches of reason
and lead by the floods
of passion.
Remains the smiles,
the glances and the tremor,
as colorfull flowers among
the empty baskets with bees
to atract them with the smell
of the memory rain.
