So it rained verses

The afternoon turned into iron and ashes,
a frozen sigh covered the façades
and misted up the glasses.
Later as a miracle,
the Milky Way came down to the streets
of hasty backs,
and the sky turned into a pink lime.
Cotton flakes fell to my hands
like if they were verses
which angels wrote,
to mitigate routines, to laugh awhile
of who here we slack.
And verses snowed
from all poets,
and letters of hidden laments rained as well.
It was the first time I saw snow,
and it poisoned my soul with beauty.

© Carmen Guzmán

Carmen Guzmán writes from Spain, and took part with this poem of the first Heptagrama poetry contest.

Arts and expression + Poetry