I ran like the whirlwind
from my windowless home,
through cracked, sun weary fields,
to your two-storey house-
all white walls and red doors,
because you said your sky
was breaking down and I
thought my small shoulders, like
Atlas, could hold it up.
I couldn’t even stop
the rain when it poured down-
minute water droplets
in their united glee,
drenched me deceptively.
I looked up at grey skies,
like shattered china skin,
realising I was
not as strong as I’d hoped,
but enough to hold up
an umbrella for us-
temporary respite
whether the skies fall or
it’s just a rainy day.