Raining on my pondering
are what IFs and might have BEENs.
Every drop brings an IF,
each splatter a BEEN.
I glide between the drops,
and spring around the splatters.
IF drops on my head direct my thoughts.
BEEN splatters at my feet direct my path.
While waltzing these ceaseless circles
all avenues lead back to the past.
If finally I tread the flowing floods,
I’ve been bathing completely in where I was.
This personal patter never fails to fall
and memory meanders in limitless loops.
If BEENing begins to be all there is
then I have been IFing too long in the rain.