Harbinger Of Rain
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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When we kissed, the sky turned grey.
And I knew it would spoil our day.
From grey to an ominous black
things were now truly out of whack.
The omens of bad fortune grew.
Helter-skelter, the heavens slew
that glorious, warm, sunny day
forked-lightning skylines disarray.
Conjugal proposal: a drowning affair.
What's left of a wing and a prayer?
Portents of which lead to despair
lifetimes—later two, playing solitaire.
The signs were worrying from the off.
Augments raucousness like jackdaw's
hoarse voices awaken each dawn.
Kak-kak and their love have gone.
A harbinger of rain, the darkness
yet still to come, its black garments
they're like a narcissistic advent
of a servile, love now quite abject.
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