Rain's Rustle (Ekphrastic Poem)

Dedicated to this painting by Leonid Afremov https://afremov.com/image.php?type=P&id=18034

 

Under chandeliers

of night leaves

cast in golden streetlight,

we walk, silent.

 

It's always been this way with us, hasn't it?

 

That initial spark,

that burns out too soon

like an asphyxiated

dying coal

until we plunge ourselves

into the perpetually dying flames,

and our hearts start to wane again

the sparks starting to fall

 

The rain

bends the light

like a brush swirled paint,

turning the world into a mirror

 

The wind gently

streams by through

silver flumes of rain,

and I turn towards you

 

Under the rustle of the rain,

your eyes cascaded with brilliant

kaleidoscopes of color;

an overcast mosaic,

I ask you:

 

It's always been this way with us, hasn't it?

 

You nod solemnly,

your face silhouetted

by hazy indigo sheets of rain

 

I delicately trace my finger

along your cheek

and the sparks rise perennial

from my heart, beating syllables

through my lips

 

I still love you.

 

Under chandeliers

of night leaves

cast in golden streetlight,

we walk, and for that moment

everything is okay.

   

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