After the Rain

When it rains, it pours…
And washes away the prints on the footpath:
--of those shoes which go nowhere,
umbrellas barely holding on,
coats drenched in pain,
and hints of hope for better days.
But when the sun kisses the pavement once again,
Even the poor man feels rich
when his worn-out hat looks bathed in gold.

--Bernadete vdw, ’25