Your bare back
framed by the window...

Pouring rain
on drowning soil...

The river flows,
flows like a tear...

Stifling and torrid was
the day you passed...

Of smoke and sand
saltiness between cement...

Crowd from the city
Come together by the sea...

Weary and beaten
Yet vastly firm...

Her dark crystal hair
Stands out on the limpid sea...

Everything makes more sense
when it rains...

Sometimes I sit down to write
But my hands are firm...

Searing wood scent
eagerly fills the air...