Singing In The Rain

a poem by Christine Anne Shaw, UK

Nothing dampened the spirits
of those in party mood.
Red, white and blue bunting
straddled the whole street,
yet the wetness prevailed.
A constant drip, drip, dripping
of raindrops, merging into rivulets,
streaming from canopies
like waterfalls.
Rain disappeared down collars,
it splashed on tables laden with food,
it diluted drinks
and rendered rolls soggy.

Champagne in the reign.
We toasted, munched, crunched
and danced,
sometimes all at once.
Kids bounced off wet castles,
clothes muddied, small faces beaming.
Kebabs sizzled and spat.
Cold limbs warmed
by hot coals.
A community was fired up
by the ambiance of the occasion.

From noon till dark,
then saturated and sodden,
of its own accord,
the bunting had lowered,
heavy, almost like a flag
at half mast.
The party was over.

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