The Rain


Drifting breeze across upturned leaf-branches,
between feathery, bright green soft stems
and ripe-to-pluck existentialism
my nose twitches with the
tingle of afternoon gentleness,
a lingered layer of life, lightly
brush-stroked upon the aura.
Sensation, in fickle,
tiptoes through my brain,
tickling neurons and tripping synapses;
senses shudder, as simultaneous
jubilation speeds from around my
ambient air to in, through, and out,
cooling my exhausted brain
and silencing afterthoughts.
I relax, let my body fall,
and allow the breeze beneath me;
feeling cloudburst on my cheek,
the eyes beneath my eyelid close,
and as ravenous colour
storms in voracious waves of pulse and flood,
a sweetly hint of pine-scent whispers
in a sugar-coated pitch
The secret of a living dream,
that nothing is quite what it seems

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