A Walk in the Rain
Paris, they say,
is beautiful
when it rains—
now I know.
The cobblestones
gleam beneath
our feet, as you
and I, our arms
entwined,
inhale the scent
of romance
washed clean
of old arguments
betrayed loyalties.
Nothing in between
but occasional
crisp sparks
of our own
lightning, intense,
tempered only
by the summer
zephyr carrying
whiffs of rosemary
drenched in the ardor
of Paris.
©Neetu Malik
Previously published in The Poetic Bond V by Willowdown Books, U.K, in 2016
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
tonight
the silk moon weaves me
into its silver streams -
don’t tell me how much
you love me, not now -
November draws me
into bleak arms -
crow flies overhead
I hear pandemonium -
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires
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