It trickled at first
Not so much spoiling the perfect weather
As slightly denting it

The sun went out
From our conversation
Until we could barely see each other
In the silence of dusk

One cloud tugged at the next
To whisper tales of strange comings
All of July blossomed into doom-coloured

This is how happiness ends
With the relentless drumming on the double glaze
And winter settling in before its time

No that’s not enough
A confession is needed
I conjured the storm
I went seeking the bad weather
Let it rain now
let it rain
Some men deserve their drowning

Hassan Abdulrazzak

If you've any comments on this poem, Hassan Abdulrazzak would be pleased to hear from you.