[55] – Questions
Unknown questions flung
Around the white washed walls.
The elephant in the room
Was so big it seemed
To squish everyone
Into separate corners.
Confusion hung in the air
But the girl’s expression
Remained stone cold.
No one said a word
Until the girl
Lifted her too-pale face
And looked at them
With her hollowed out eyes,
Breaking the silence,
“I didn’t always love the rain.”
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
