Another rainy day in June

 

Another rainy day in June.

It’s funny,

last night I remember

dreaming of you.

The way we sat

on the bench

humming that tune.

Same way we

would always do,

until we never did again.

 

It’s funny,

I was remembering

your laugh, as it pierced

the air like broken glass.

But it was infectious,

a single burst

and we would all be

wrapped around our knees,

rolling the floors,

having to gasp just to breathe.

 

It’s funny,

I was just sat here,

thinking about that summer.

The heatwave then the thunder.

The excitement, then sadness

would roll over, like a storm cloud

bringing a downpour unlike any other.

A gang of friends. Sisters. Brothers.

Then the rainy day when

the calendar ripped

and friendships sailed

unto other harbours.

 

Another rainy day in June,

there had been so many,

and there still are.

I feel them in my heart.

The way the rain calls

in a piercing cry.

The way my eyes flood,

not with rainwater but

with lost smiles.

 

Every rainy day reminds of when

summer days were torn apart.

When youthful hearts stopped beating

and started fearing the setting sun.

I still feel that bolt piercing my heart

like a bullet from a gun.

The way the days no longer laughed

and the songs stayed stuck on repeat

somewhere behind the shattered glass

of a stolen car.

And the newspaper on the welcome matt

would peer up at us with our friends

photograph smiling back, laughing

that same piercing soundtrack.

And I still remember the summer

when the rain poured down

and youth walked away

and never came back.