Unknowing Rainy Days – A Free verse Poem

On rainy days

You might see a lone figure walking through the empty streets

Depending on the time or place

Cars might run past them as they continue to tread on the soaked sidewalks

But in their damp blue poncho

And translucent grey umbrella

They soil the puddles with each step

Leaving muddy footprints barely visible amongst the dirtied pathways

Perhaps they may feel lost, but with a sense of tranquillity

You couldn’t ask them though

You aren’t outside in the rain.

The figure avoids stepping onto the 15th earthworm 

Then forgets about it as they avoid the next

And the next.

They’re like forgotten ghosts

And will mysteriously disappear the next day.

There’s a certain calmness with rainy days

The monotone sky

With only the raindrops, and splashing of puddles

It’s sort of therapeutic.

You could never isolate your ears to these sounds on sunny days.

Then the rainy day becomes windy too.

The trees start to shake as each leaf attempts to fight against the gale

But the further from the base, the weaker the branch, 

And the leaves get thrown about 

Under one of these shaking trees, the figure stops for a moment, protected against the falling rain

They reveal their wrist, and glance down at the watch that’s wrapped around it

Then, they continue on their path once again.

Against the jaded world, they can fight against the gale.

You see them walk around a drain, with a minute river of water cascading into it

Next, around the muddy debris of someone’s scattered gardening wood chips.

And then around fallen flowers, depressed by the heavy rain on top of their lowly bodies

But as they continue along, you lose sight of the figure

They hasten their pace with alacrity as the wind grows louder

There may be a storm, so you best be careful too.

But you’d think of this figure and where they went.

As they turned the corner, how much further were they from home?

You’d like to imagine they got home safely, 

Took off their dampened coat and sunken shoes

And rested on a chair with a lukewarm cup of tea that tasted bitter but alright.

It probably had a fruity flavour, with hints of cinnamon, and a vague sweetness from a small spoonful of honey.

They had likely made the tea beforehand, and traversed further than planned with the calm isolation of a rainy world.

That must be why the tea was lukewarm, if the figure even made tea in the first place.

You don’t know, since you weren’t outside in the rain

Nor do you know the figure.

But sidewalks can get slippery when wet.

So you still hoped that they made it back to their home before the storm came

After all.

How else would they get to enjoy their tea?

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