When the weather is fine
Twelve Sundays ago, when skies opened wide —
Soaking the world outside my window.
I stayed in the warmth of my couch,
In the embrace of a new show.
“When the Weather is Fine.”
Was the title a mirror to that day?
Perhaps a subtle divine sign,
A quiet assurance,
That I too, deserve love, soft and kind,
As tender as the bond on screen, so clearly defined.
Thank you for taking the time to read this poem. This is the third out of thirteen.