The Rain


Tell me, does the rain know teardrops?
Is each splash a broken thought?
Is every puddle a place to walk through?
We know the waters and what we drag
up, are the whims and the sorrows.

Tell me, does the rain know heartache?
Why does it fall without a complaint?
Why does it make us want to sit
by the window and watch the sums
accumulate?

I sit in wondrous thoughts, of it all.
The sounds against leaves
The rooftops and the gutters
The drains and the rivers
All this rain just falling

and then I'll imagine of her
blowing steam from the coffee cup
It is the rain to dance in, the solace
of the sun

A vacation from the rain

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