The English Girl with the Umbrella

Fabian Perez- Summer Rain II
Spring has sprung
Life has begun. Finally.
Still, bursts of rain betray the relapse into Winter
Trickling down a beautiful façade
Weathered by the acid over the years
And the puffs of clouds gather round
The leaves hide away
Blushing from the intensity of the
golden orb that does stand so proudly over the scape.
Like an ethereal power watching over the small ants.
She smiles and trembles inwardly,
Adventure or fear?
A gulp in the throat.
Heart racing.
Slam. Slam. Slam.
She stands, an ordinary lady,
Ordinary, to an onlooker.
If only they could read her thoughts and dreams,
They could look beyond the pale face and be
astounded by the colours that danced in her.
Built for something bigger, more exciting. She still hopes.
Her quivering lips tremble as the weight of the bird thrashes its wings in her chest.
Its wings clipped, yet stubborn to stretch and break free.
In spite of knowing.
A whole palette of colours.
Why stick to beige?
Beige was safe and practical.
Comfortable. Yet boring.
To a land beyond beyond.
I bid you genie, now appear.
Mrs. Reed was ever present,
And Jane felt the need to run
To the souks of Dubai
Or the huts of China
The azure and terracotta of Morocco
The yellow sands of Arabia.
The golds, pinks and greens of India.
This Yellow Brick Road ever present,
with no Scarecrow to walk arm in arm.
And no Toto to distract.
All the while, the Wicked Witch flitting in and out.
One day the bucket will be thrown
And the Lion will rise.
Crown sitting proudly on head.
But the return won't be to Kansas.
The rainbow of colours will remain.
A reminder that it was the rain that led to the creation
Of this.


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