Musings on a Rainy Afternoon

Abode by deadpoet88

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The clouds formed a carpet in the sky,
Shedding drops of heaven to the ground,
The wind danced like my fickle mind,
Changing direction with every sound,
And I sat dreamily watching the cold wet tar,
As a flower fallen, was picked up by the wind,
And rolled down the pavement before it stopped,
So enchanting was the moment,
Mesmerized, my eyes lingered to it constantly,
Though I knew the wind had dropped it home.

I sat there listening to the voices of children talking,
As friends who sat beside me talked of news,
Yet I heard nothing, but the sound of silence
Trying hard to be heard, but still quite amused.
The gooseberry flavor lingered on my tongue,
Recently stolen from the garden nearby,
The taste was tangy, my tongue dry,
As I sat there dreamily pondering over life,
Life was sour, life was bitter, and oh so sweet,
And then I thought of you and smiled.

Sadness crept into my heart in faint traces.
As I stared at the poor man’s abode across the street,
It was desolated and empty, with a shiny lock,
Rusting, and so fragile, as if about to fall,
Yet among the riches, stood this poor man’s life,
Possessions meant nothing in these times of strife,
But his world was hidden behind that decaying door,
Through which he must have crawled every night,
To lie awake until the thoughts clouded his mind
And put him in a state of sweet slumber.

The wind blew, and took my mind for a ride,
To unknown faces, and far off places,
And a beautiful sadness took over my soul,
Threatening to steal away my feelings so cold.
The voices from the distance came to life,
As if awakening me from a dream,
But my heart was light, my thoughts dreamy,
As we walked back to our box of reality,
The fallen flowers floating in puddles,
Kept me from forgetting that sad, beautiful emotion.

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Obstacles

“The Street Urchin” by Antonio Mancini

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As a boy, he never knew the meaning of a roof,
Living among the stars, and gutter walls,
Climbing trees and mountain peaks,
Just to survive as days went passing by.

This little boy, knew no other life,
Than the life on the lonely streets,
Where insults were given more generously than food,
And best friends were these means of stealth.

Feeling the emptiness of hunger and cold,
As he slept on the hard sidewalks,
Yet still he dreamed of doing great deeds,
For what are dreams but the voices of our heart?

So this little boy, who never drowned in tears,
Threw away from himself the basest of his fears,
And took it upon himself to be a great man,
Yet told himself to never forget his humble roots.

It was a challenging road, he chose to take,
Trying to learn without being taught,
Sometimes finding he must choose between two wrongs,
The obstacles blocking the road were endless.

His eyes shone brightly as he studied on the streets,
His thirst for knowledge burning brightly,
Days passed by, days which turned into years,
And he grew to be a made man, off the streets.

No more sleeping on the sidewalks under the rain,
Nor doing petty tasks to make a penny for grain,
Yet as he walked down the roads of his childhood,
He remembered the feeling of poverty.

And when bright eyes peeked through the shadows,
Helpless, cold, and hungry,
The now turned man passed on the gift of knowledge,
As the greatest gift one can give to the helpless.

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When one sets their mind to achieve something,
When one decides that they must learn,
What are obstacles but petty nuisances,
To be forgotten, once overcome.

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