My impermeable arch protects
And shields against the tears of God;
Creating an arid that deflects,
Gripped by a rod,
I am carried along.

​

Until one day I am not needed.
You hung me up and forgot I exist.
Not taking me along as you proceeded,
Until there’s a mist
And I am dug from the depths of your house.

​

A sprinkling, a dusting, or a monsoon
Then you will want me, wishing I was with.
Your good afternoon
Soiled by a weather report that was a myth.
There is reward in remembering me.

​

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