It was a rainstorm infatuation.
The clouds romantically dimmed the skies.
She looked perfect under the veiled night,
deep brown skin, hair dripping of rainwater,
eyes as big as saucers.
A rainstorm of happenstance
that we’ll never regret,
even when we’re happily married
to someone else.
Originally published at The Poetry Bar.
read more from Mark at ‘Crow on the Wire’ here: https://crowonthewire.com/