Last night-
the soft raindrops shattered
on the brick pavement
as the drops lay dying-
they were reborn as  
a ***** trickle,
which washed the dust laden brown  bricks
to flame orange.

Blue of the rains
merged with the blue
of the shoddy plastic sheet
above the old cobbler's forehead
where destiny had scribbled poverty.

Will the rain wash it away too?