that tapping, that
patterpatterpatter
the rain makes
on the window,
it is not water.
it is the sound of
absolution
and
impermanence.
tomorrow the streets will be
a memory.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
"A current under sea/Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell/He passed the stages of his age and youth/Entering the whirlpool."
1 comment:
you are beautiful.
Post a Comment