02-11-2018, 07:19 PM
Rain...
It falls softly in some places.
It falls loudly in others.
Like the blames,
stained on windows,
flung into the eyes...
Like a playful pool fight,
the water may sting,
eyes that may burn,
you have thought,
of others,
like you think of the past,
nostalgia clinging,
like drops to a window,
it can slide off,
dripping with anticipation,
or from great effort,
crossing a wide river.
Wallowing waiters,
waiting for others,
bide time for tomorrows.
Docking at docks,
looking at clocks,
balancing books,
glances and looks,
a pin drops in open silence.
The air is fresh,
dust settling on shoulders,
dancing in light,
beaming through rafters,
echoes of music,
lingering laughter,
arching back,
breathing through a smile.
Falling, spinning,
through scenes and memories,
the morning emulsifies,
shaken by the light,
shone from the window,
opening eyes,
glaring bright,
holding tight,
onto a fading memory.
Dampened soil and a warm hearth,
stinging air and warm blankets,
one night ago,
a morning later.
It falls softly in some places.
It falls loudly in others.
Like the blames,
stained on windows,
flung into the eyes...
Like a playful pool fight,
the water may sting,
eyes that may burn,
you have thought,
of others,
like you think of the past,
nostalgia clinging,
like drops to a window,
it can slide off,
dripping with anticipation,
or from great effort,
crossing a wide river.
Wallowing waiters,
waiting for others,
bide time for tomorrows.
Docking at docks,
looking at clocks,
balancing books,
glances and looks,
a pin drops in open silence.
The air is fresh,
dust settling on shoulders,
dancing in light,
beaming through rafters,
echoes of music,
lingering laughter,
arching back,
breathing through a smile.
Falling, spinning,
through scenes and memories,
the morning emulsifies,
shaken by the light,
shone from the window,
opening eyes,
glaring bright,
holding tight,
onto a fading memory.
Dampened soil and a warm hearth,
stinging air and warm blankets,
one night ago,
a morning later.