I'm Still Dreaming

Wild Rains

Something about rain always seemed magical,
It was like touching something wild. 

The dark woods where fairytales live,
Magical rolling green hills, 
And obsidian sea cliffs where the waves spray

Everywhere I look there is a world that calls to me,
But I am trapped on the wrong side of the veil, 
Watching a world that is always right beyond my grasp. 

At least the rain is a magic I can touch.