Back to Issue 7

The Rain is Falling by Ken Thomas

The rain is falling through the leaves. I open my window to hear the
drops. They say to me that love comes with a broken heart; that it
comes with a heavy price and is full of deceit. But the rain is pure as
it falls through the leaves.

She comes again. I see her standing in the rain. She holds her bleeding
heart out in her hands to me with a selfless look I have seen before.

Less and less she has come through the years, but still she comes,
thinking I will be deceived. I who have lived so long!

But this time I will take her heart, bleeding from the palms of her
hands, and I will bury it in the ground, in a plain, wooden box-- not
of gold nor of silver, for if someone should dig it up, I would not
want him rejoicing, thinking that there was something inside of even
greater worth, instead of worms.