Maybe I'll Write That Poem

The rose growing up and over the old stone barn in the corner of a field should be a line in a poem.

The sky as black as night makes the perfect backdrop.

The smell of a freshly mown lawn wafts in from somewhere,

adding an extra layer to things.

That should be in there too!

Here come the raindrops!

I could imagine the pungent scent of the beautiful pink flowers which cling to the crumbling tiled roof,

describe their freshness and the way a brief shaft of sunlight lifts their colours.

I could list the memories that the freshly mown grass evokes.

The smell,

the sound of the mower,

the 'hurry hurry' as people try to get the gardening done before the raindrops turn into a shower. 

Now a shaft of light brightens the black sky as the rain relents,

giving people just enough time to finish what they have to do.

Maybe I'll write that poem.