...harrumph...
Every time it rains my mind begins to tremble with the thoughts that seem to fall from the sky. My mouth betrays emotion as it blossoms within me; the smirk marks it mirth. I can see this well as I catch myself in the reflection of the sliding glass, a wispy man in a smokey parallel. He's coasting on up to step inside as I step outside to enjoy the plink and plunk of the downpour. Each drop is a lover's caress, and the wind becomes hands in my hair as my regard separates into equal parts. Half of me remembers and recites the encounters of long nights and many clouds past. The rest of me lingers in the wet moments of the sky's falling, drinking up the cold and swallowing the water with my skin and my hair and my clothes till my body shivers, all while my mind quivers; and I, as one, am spent.
Today, how disappointing, it rained as I was toiling under book for the sake of necessity. By the time I was night-side and home-bound what fell to me couldn't even be called a drizzle....sort of a hand-shake and a how-do-you-do...how depressing: to miss the rain. What a sad little sort I feel. Harrumph. I'm spent.
-Guppy
Today, how disappointing, it rained as I was toiling under book for the sake of necessity. By the time I was night-side and home-bound what fell to me couldn't even be called a drizzle....sort of a hand-shake and a how-do-you-do...how depressing: to miss the rain. What a sad little sort I feel. Harrumph. I'm spent.
-Guppy