Purple Coat

The raindrop magnified

tiny fibres on the sleeve

of my plum purple coat.

I wanted to touch the drop,

flatten it, spoil its perfection,

but she held my hand tight.

Looking up I saw her dark expression

shadowed by the umbrella,

eyes fixed ahead, lips pressed together.

The man threw the dirt into the hole,

raising a smell of early mornings and mushrooms.

Rain poured down and smeared her face.

She trembled and sobbed

as she stepped forward in the mud

and threw her flowers into the hole.

More raindrops fell on my purple coat,

They collided and merged,

No longer magnifying, just sodden.