Ten drops of rain remain on my window.
Each reflecting a world I cannot see.
Tiny details of life, now refracted
warped, then twisted and turned to fit the curves.
I think I spot the daffodils in bloom,
flavescent yellow under bluing skies.
My daughter's red wagon, wheels distorted.
A silver maple, begining to bloom.
Spring designs stencils for Summer to fill.
Painting them, first with rain, then with color.
My..the 'ten' drops hit hard..like as a child when you hide away and race rain drops..or when you cry..I am glad your daughter's little red wagon is in view..I am glad colour is coming..Jae
ReplyDeleteThanks Jae. I was writing a 10 line, 10 syllable per line, poem so I thought I would put 10 drops of rain in it.
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