I’ was raining cats and dogs
In a remote village
Where very few adventure.
Alone on the road,
The little boy walks.
No umbrella, no hat.
A wet shirt displaying his bones.
Nothing to protect him
From the heavy rain
Pouring from an angry sky.
His mother he looks for
Though no real destination he has.
When his beloved father passed away,
The sole man that has ever protected him.
Two days and no consistent food.
He walks and smiles.
His innocent tears in perfect harmony
With the drops on his calm and strong face.
Not a clue where his mother would be.
Three years old he was
When in anger she left.
And came no back.
Paterne Freeman Shadowriter, Self a Universe, Poetry Volume
Photo Credit: Pinterest