The Rain
I wrote this a while ago on my computer. I'm not sure why I wrote it. I guess I was just extremely bored and reflective.
The Rain
The rain reminds be of old movies. Subtle in its approach, it seems it's always building up to some terrible fantastic storm. But it continues in its downpour, graceful and beautiful.
I could just stare out for hours and be engulfed. The tempests of my difficulties and regrets are washed away with its calmness. The torrents of guilt and loss seem to drip off the shingles of my house. And the rivers of passion and belonging finally flow again.
My thoughts begin to warp in warm puddles of emotions pouring down with the rain. They mix in with the dirt and water and flow down the streets for all to see. My entire life is told in the little streams: a flood that carries fast out of sight.
My heart is the blanketing clouds covering every inch of the places I love. The rain is my gift and my emotions the flood.
For all to see, I stand there reaching out.
The Rain
The rain reminds be of old movies. Subtle in its approach, it seems it's always building up to some terrible fantastic storm. But it continues in its downpour, graceful and beautiful.
I could just stare out for hours and be engulfed. The tempests of my difficulties and regrets are washed away with its calmness. The torrents of guilt and loss seem to drip off the shingles of my house. And the rivers of passion and belonging finally flow again.
My thoughts begin to warp in warm puddles of emotions pouring down with the rain. They mix in with the dirt and water and flow down the streets for all to see. My entire life is told in the little streams: a flood that carries fast out of sight.
My heart is the blanketing clouds covering every inch of the places I love. The rain is my gift and my emotions the flood.
For all to see, I stand there reaching out.