<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418151" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Like Rain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stood today on that ironwork footbridge<br>over the White Cart and its blooming banks. <br>Your river was running the wrong way again<br>around the old village and under the stars<br>down by the ruins under blue skies<br>through purples and yellows and lilacs. <br>and the sun was the sun of a June too long flown <br>and your bridge was an archway made of stone, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was nowhere near Paisley or these bass-beat days, <br>yet only a blink or a heartbeat away. <br>I saw you between those two lochs we know so well. <br>You stood on the arch there and looked east and west, <br>your eyes full of distance, and heart light with dreaming <br>that flooded the air of the dance hall <br>where I saw in your eyes what all young lovers seek<br>when we danced close and slow for the last time. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too young on the scene then I saw it all too late. <br>Though graced by it there and remembering now <br>is more than enough, dear, I finally know it<br>as the archway retreats and the old town hall fades <br>and the riverside riches of Paisley impose <br>just only these few sweet reminders<br>in this town where we’re blind to each other once more<br>and where time, falls like rain through my fingers</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>July 2008</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jim+Hogg">Jim Hogg</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418151" data-title="Like Rain de Jim Hogg" data-description="I stood today on that ironwork footbridge over the White Cart and its blooming banks. Your river was running the wrong way again around the old village and under the stars down by the ruins under blue skies through purples and yellows and lilacs...."></div> </div> </div>

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