The Perfect Photograph

And so, she walked on

Right out into the rain.

Her heels in her hands

As the clouds went insane.

 

The smell of the earth—

She’s a perfect photograph!

The flash of lightning,

Along with thunder’s laugh.

 

Her umbrella dry,

Safe in her purse,

Beside her keys, and

Her colours and her curse.

 

She would’ve walked on

Ready to never look back.

She would’ve let go;

Disappeared into the black.

 

A thousand suns

Didn’t have the appeal

That was hidden in her hair;

Her eyes, her smile that could heal.

 

She didn’t look back

As she sighed in relief.

When the rain stopped,

‘It’ll start again’, was her belief.

-Yogya

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