Rain,
Rain,
Fly away,
Though the the sand is dry,
And my lips are chapped.
Drip,
Drip,
It pours all day,
Flooding the gutters,
Though the sky is blue.
They cry,
They cry,
Like a southbound river,
On a sunny day,
Only when they should be glad.
When up is up,
And up is up,
We sing in the rain,
And do the wrong,
And ask to live our lives.
YOU ARE READING
"She"
Poesía"Some days we're dead. Others we're alive. In all of them we exist." Poetry Collection, accumulation of most of my work. Femminine feelings that can only be felt by some. Inner thoughts, whims and feelings are written here. If I can impact you a...
