Your Children’s Rhyme

Your Children’s Rhyme

A Poem by Lindsay Elizabeth

There goes Peter Cotton Tail running from his biggest fears
It all happened as in the sticky summer heat
when the clouds cannot contain their precipitation for
one moment more
and the rain explodes from the sky like bombs.
The only difference was that I could not predict this thunderstorm. 
52 minutes and the sky shut its sewage pipes and you saw blue horizon
but left me drowning in the muck of your unnatural disaster.
There was no precedent nor pattern. 
And you set your precincts because all that mattered
was that you would not have to cross the yellow tape that read
Row, row, row your boat as quickly as you can. 

With two broken paddles you forged downstream 
towards a mountain that looked so apocalyptic
that you could not get over it.
And when you can’t go over it you must go around it
and when you can’t go around it you must go through it.
So you threw yourself overboard and bought a plane ticket home.
If I had only known.
If I had only known
that when Jack and Jill went up that hill to see what they could see
that he'd freak out and cry about what he could not foresee--  
that he’d push her off the precipice 
so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it
or take the time to process with
someone other than himself
that he’d send her on an avalanche
and blame it on the distance and
curse the rains that troubled them
with "personality differences"
when it’s so obvious
that he just didn’t want to carry an umbrella. 
And the cold water came tumbling down 
and the itsy bitsy spider 
ran all the way home. 
If I had only known.
If I had only known!
If I had only known 
that when the clouds hung heavy that mid-July night
while we sat by the lake where the water looked calm
but the moisture stuck to our skin like a parasite 
that it was nature’s way of telling me 
that the worst kind of weather 
is the kind that you can feel and not the kind that you can see. 
If I had only known that you’d abandon me,
I would’ve run to higher ground 
You’d be the one to break your crown
I’d be the one who’s looking down
Instead of she who’s fallen from the wall. 
But naive I am. I stand exposed  
and that's the way the story goes.
I did not know. I did not know.
Pop! Goes the weasel. 

© 2017 Lindsay Elizabeth

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Added on June 2, 2015
Last Updated on February 20, 2017