[75] - Journal
The boy put down
His blue ink pen.
The floor gates to his heart
Had been open wide
And everything had been
Transformed into words in paper,
Lines of poetry.
All the poems had been
Written in the girl's journal -
The half empty one she had been
Holding onto that fateful rainy day.
It was a shame she had left
This world
Before she could fill it with herself,
So the boy felt like it had been
His responsibility
To write in her stead.
He even had some of
His lonely poetry
Published in the local newspaper.
He wrote about his life,
His love,
HIs loss,
And a Pluviophile.
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
PoetryIt was a rainy day, in New York no less. One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop. One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment. short story #98 poetry #51
