I am the rain
Gently patting
The rooftop
The drop
Sliding down
Your window
I glide
Past the glow
Of your lamp
Clinging to
The warmth
Of your fingertips
As they press
Against the glass
Losing grip
I slip away
YOU ARE READING
The Fear of Drowning Deep
PoetryShe was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful something to be admired from a distance not up close. - A little talent is a good thing to have if you ever want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every...
