The Umbrella

I want an umbrella.

Pink polka dots or yellow rubber ducks.

Anything will do.

My umbrella will keep me safe and dry from forceful rains.

My umbrella will protect me from frigid snow.

Howling winds.

Ceaseless showers.

Protect me from

life.

When the rain starts to pour,

one effortless push of the magical button will cure all.

Pop.

All will be calm.

Peace will be achieved.

Naïveté will be maintained.

My umbrella is my shield. My umbrella is my poetry.

The catch: precipitation is its limit. Such is life. But the poetry will remain infinite.