Idle in July

RB this one's to tell you something. Half the times I read the stuff on your site i feel like i dont need to read much of it to feel it cos i feel like i am expressing what i feel like inside. I bow to you, you are my benchmark for writing now.

This one is for you.

Idle in July
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the water on her hands, every drop
i watch them falling
splatter on to the granite seat
in the part, the tin roof overhead
where i saw her first
like some unsung poem
a serenade of life,
How it would have been mine
Demeaned by the parting
Now,
somewhere where her feet splashes
Water of the puddle
In the rains this july
Where her hunger for passion is met
And she held by her lover shall dance
In the same rain
The very one that wets the earth i smell
I stretch my hand touch those droplets
Like a madman, try to hold one
It's past, its gone, faded
My heart still aches
The thorn of memory
I let out a wail
Calling you name
The rain water covers my cry.