You ever watched the rain fall from a glass window
You see the rain hit the window and it slide down the glass and you pick a rain drop and watch it slide down
You watch it combine with other droplets and grow and continue to slide ...you notice others stopped at a certain point but not yours,
no yours continues to roll despite everything going on around it...and by the time it hits the end you feel happy inside ...it made it
Sometimes I feel like the rain drop that wasn't picked doing just as good but no recognition...rolling and growing just as yours did still rolling down this window which you sit in front of out of Boredom or sorrow...look at me go, rolling down this window and inevitably hitting a wall in the end...look at me go from a droplet of rain on your window to a tear in your eye, look at me go, down your cheek to your chin, look at me go from tears to condensation on the glass of which the wine was poured while you think and gaze out of this window...look at me go out of your life and you don't know how closer I was to you until I'm gone & now you watch from a distance and notice the clouds and gray again ...look at me go.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Caterpillars
PoetryMidnight • after hour thoughts of everything including you, usually the time I start writing these, the start of a new day. Caterpillars • the people we are before we change you can be butterflies or moths one is nocturnal and the other is diurnal...
