Acid Rain by Gordan Struić

It started

like any other rain —

soft taps

on the leaves,

a hush rolling down

the sky.

But by noon,

the roses sagged,

their petals burned

at the edges,

white turning to rust.

The oak stood still,

its bark blistering

in silence,

too proud

to bow,

but I swear

it shuddered

with shame.

The stone child

by the gate

lowered its head,

new cracks spidering

across its face,

as if unable

to bear

the weight of watching.

Later,

the sun returned —

bright,

clean,

and unforgiving.

Gordan Struić is a poet, writer, and lawyer from Zagreb, Croatia. His work explores silence, memory, and the hidden undercurrents of human experience. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Beyond Words, 34th Parallel Magazine, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Prosetrics Magazine, Voidspace, and #Ranger Magazine. When not writing, he plays guitar and explores the dialogue between poetry and sound.