Standing at her doorway
you looked down the rainy yellow street.
That once lively, once mellow, and now yellow street.
You placed your ear on your head
and heard your heart open up like an umbrella;
That soft heavy heavy sound.
You have always liked umbrellas.
Specially the black worn out ones;
Like the one you left behind
hanging beside her bed.
And it reminds you now
that you will never get it back.
And it reminds you now;
all else that you will never get back.
Some things in life ends so abruptly.
Things end, but the ending goes on.
And with a throng of umbrellas
opening up inside you,
you walk down the rainy street.
(c) Korou Kh 18-1-09