Cushions sink beneath weight,
and a body-shaped hollow forms.
Knees drawn up, chin resting,
nose almost touching the glass.
The world outside is a watercolour,
lines blurred by sheets of rain.
The trees sway, their branches reaching,
like hands waving hello.
A car rushes by,
Its tyres hiss on wet asphalt.
Gone in a blink, leaving only
a trail of disturbed puddles.
Raindrops race down the pane,
tiny athletes in a liquid marathon.
I pick my champion, urging it on,
invested in this microscopic drama.
The fog also creeps up from below,
its fingers spread across the glass.
I trace a heart, a star, my name,
temporary art on a misty canvas.
A bird darts past,
a flash of colour in the grey.
Where is it going in this downpour?
What urgent errand calls it out?
I see the neighbour's cat slinking by,
It's further slicked down and tail low.
Our eyes meet briefly,
two creatures dry, watching the wet.
The steam from my mug
clouds my view momentarily.
As it clears, the world outside
seems to have shifted and renewed.
Hours pass unnoticed,
marked only by changing lights.
The window, my TV screen,
nature's slow-motion film.
Here, in this in-between space,
not quite in, not quite out,
I am both an observer and observed,
part of the rainy day's quiet magic.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for a Rainy Day
PoetryThis enchanting collection of poems celebrates the quiet magic of rainy days, inviting readers to curl up with a warm cup of tea and explore the beauty of grey skies. From misty mornings to stormy nights, each poem is a soft blanket for the soul, e...
