April 12, 2013 § 1 Comment

The world smells

its best

just after it is washed



in perfume

of the sky


harvested with the cotton

in fields high above

churned, delicately,

with sea breath


It quenches my thirst

for something more


Something tangible


because each droplet

tattoos my skin

with an uncatchable force

before melting

through my fingers


a tiny wave


in the current

of the breeze.


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§ One Response to Rain

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