Aspirations

A POMwrimo poem

Photo by Badal Patel on Unsplash

Transparent, you say?

Try to be like glass,

when vertical threads of rain

are falling fast and

stinging like pins.

… First, tiny dots,

then, heavy drops,

then, they slip and fall,

dry in the wind,

or evaporate in the sun.

You too become dull

of residual dust.