rain shadow . . .

I live in a far away dry-land

and you in the midst of the rain-forest.

We could still relate to each other.

I thus started weaving a carpet

to lay in the sphere in between

so as to make our transgressions

a comfortable affair.

I did of course weave the carpet with

facts and fiction

which you preferred to call truth and lies.

On your way to reach the middle-path

you admired those fictional threads

as shiny and smooth.

But when you are back in the rain

you are telling me that

I should have not lied to you.

I have nothing to say in response,

just remember those little violet flowers

that have blossomed on both sides of the way

when you headed back.

,..