Rain and Heart

It's ten past in the morning

in early June

And I'm just seated here

Blank and grim,

A less speaking heart,

some things straying inside

some vanish like soap bubbles 

So fast ,uncatchable.

Papers and notes

fly in air

lost words and the  forgotten.

Pen flips,

Hands go mad,
and it's raining here

But one side blue

and  the other is grey.

I'm sure,

Where ever you are

it's still morning as mine

may be in bright pastel color

more warmed and smooth.

And,
among all flipping pen  , papers , blue skies and greys 

there is 'you'

stuck in my eyelids

and my eyes , so poor

cannot close

because you are too tender

even tender than this teardrop and sigh.