Ellipsis || Poetry ✓

25 February : it's the first rain of the year

I wonder if the raindrops miss the grass these days.
Angels falling from the heavens crash and burn these days,
Instead of falling into their lovers' gentle embrace.
Remember the numerous poems written by poets of yore?
About how raindrops look like pearls in a sea of green?
Now, though, they are mere patches on the ground,
Crashing on concrete and asphalt,
Turning the black into a darker shade,
Turning the grey into a sadder shade.

I wonder if the grass ever mourns for its lover,
As it watches it crash and burn onto the earth.
Their union was holy once,
Humans would stop to write sagas about them,
About how lucky the sea of green was to get drenched by this ambrosia.
But now, the grass merely peeks out from the cracks in the concrete and asphalt,
Thirsty for their lovers touch,
But unable to extend a hand.

I wonder if this is why the rain carries our poison on its back these days.
I wonder if this is why the green refuses to show itself to us these days.

If we are the villains to their story,
We do deserve their wrath.