Drip drop, pitter patter,

Rain falls down hand in hand with thunder;

The water doesn’t wet his translucent hand.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

Soaking her through her brown cloak,

Seeing the stone makes her choke.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

A bouquet of white lilies presented by her partner,

“Innocence,” he whispers, describing her lover.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

The orchard rain mixes with her tears,

Sadness, yes, but no, not fear.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

The living might as well be equally dead,

Injustice and mistakes are hard not to be made.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

The rope might as well had been around her own neck,

The system’s too big for revenge to be added to the deck.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

They can’t see him standing right there,

The ring around her finger as cold as the ice around his soul.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

Her lips upon the gravestone tickles briefly across his skin,

Reminding him of what once had been.

Drip drop, pitter patter,

The rain is slowing down;

But they remained there until the sun touched every corner of the orchard.

Drip, drop, pitter, patter,

“Time to go,” they feel in their heart,

But take comfort in knowing that they never did part.

Drip … drop … pitter … patter …

The dew on the lilies; her tears and the orchard rain,

He lifts to his lips; and drinks away the pain.


Writer’s note: An attempt at poetry :p Really rusty since I’ve been focusing on solid prose only, but I have a great idea for one of my stories that involves poetry, so here’s to practicing a TON until I achieve satisfying decency in poetic telling! 😀