Wet Patio Of Time

Wet Patio Of Time
© Surazeus
2026 02 15

Twinkle of raindrops on patio planks 
wakes memories of weird dramatic scenes 
that her ancestors once experienced 
for millions of years on this turning globe 
when they sat in silence of everywhere 
on timeless afternoons of falling rain. 

Shadows of old memories from her life 
stretch bright across wet patio of time 
that echoes laughter of wind-swirling leaves 
to veil warm sunshine of her lonely smile 
that glows in garden of forgotten books 
where all sad stories of dead humans hide. 

She sighs that eager children of her heart 
have scattered far across the fertile land 
as seeds blown by indifferent wind of change 
that sprout in families with unknown names 
who cherish their own memories of life 
where she is ghost of absence none can see. 

Awake with mute complacency of love, 
she tries to play observer of their play 
with patient nonchalance of bitter hope, 
yet finds in space between unspoken words 
compassion for young strangers of her clan 
with love that sheds fierce urgency of hope. 

Holding small leather Bible in pale hands, 
she walks in black shoes and long yellow dress 
on dirt road to white church on the lake shore 
where child of the sky hides inside the oak 
and writes poems in alphabet he designed 
with blood of dragons on frail autumn leaves. 

Though she knows without a doubt in her heart 
that the child of the sky inside the oak 
is father of her mother she once met 
when he was old as the bent withered oak, 
so she tries to remember his true name 
but all she can think about his Hengist. 

Dark stranger on the shore calls out her name, 
inquiring if she might have any tears 
of wordless sorrow to sell for the cow, 
so she lays flower wreath on its large head 
and parades through town to Scarborough Fair 
where she was his true love who still lives there. 

If she gets trapped in the internet game 
transforming beauty from innocent tears, 
she might ask statue of Apollo how 
to find the street where angels fear to tread, 
then laughs because life has become absurd 
as computer code of the happy bird.