The Smell Of Rain Poem by Joan Hart

Walking to your car
Can you smell the rain?
You want to live to be one thousand,
Don't know how you'd stand the pain

I think you want to fix the world,
An 'S' stamped on your chest
And your cynical tough attitude
Is an act at best

Your eyes are always searching,
Gearing up for the next debate
You take my hand, you read the lines
You say that it's all fate

You and I, we're both the same
We sing our hopeful song
We reject fairytales of happiness
But hope like hell to be proved wrong

Walking to your car
Can you smell the rain?
You’ve stood in life’s dark shadow
And you’ll never be the same