If your love was the rainfall
I’d fling my umbrella,
Kick off my galoshes
And sail my sow ester
In to the North wind.
On Lendal Bridge,
I’d stand above the cold river,
throw back my drenched head
and sing Russian love songs
at the night’s purple clouds.
Stripped down to my skin
And wearing my blindfold,
I’d dance through the black puddled streets
Of forever.
Colm Flanagan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/your-love-15/
