The sky smells of lilacs
And I imagine the clouds as flowers.
The leaves have adhered themselves to the ground with rain water.
The dull oranges and bright yellows.
Tree petals.
They've lost their hardness.
The crisp air sings to me,
Wraps its arms around me.
I feel at home in the rain and cold.
The water droplets cleanse me,
Takes away a bit of my sadness each time.
The sound speaks to me how I remember my grandmother did.
I miss her how the rain misses me.
YOU ARE READING
The Swallows and the Sunsets
PoetryI tend to find meanings in things not intended to have one.
