Benches in the Rain

Benches in the Rain

My People, Our People

His People, Her People

WE the people have the normal desire to sit on a bench in the

rain.

She wears her beautiful top hat in Brittany,

He wears his beautiful sombrero in Trevino.

Both in Europe, or every where

in the world.

The

rain is

wonderful

and makes the

mind like the face

beat in several ways.

She smiles in the rain of

Europe, for it make

her filled with,

Euphoria.

In a desert

There is a change

He wears his hat to

protect his from

the large brutal

ball up in

the blue.

No rain, LET THERE BE GLORY.

In the distracting rain she asks

“May I sit”

Much like a snob.

But the profound flat-headed man says

“What is your cause”

On the peninsula,

no-one dares to live there,

So He with the sombrero sits in

peace.

She responds

“let me sit, for it is my right to sit”

The profound flat-headed man thus spoke:

“your eyes are hurting

your ears are distracted

You will die senseless.”

He, in peace,

sees her

blind, deaf, mute, no touch, no smell.

“Why have you come here, to sit?”

he said.

My People, Our People

His People, Her People

all die to this.