Sat by my lonesome at a rain covered window.
Gloomy the sky was,
shades of a desolate gray.
I love to look for color in,
mysterious ambiance of the bland and dark.
To find life in the rot and decay.
Im a fluctuant optimist,
a pluviophile.
Such a dangerous combination.
I think for however short a time,
the rain enjoys basking in the sun.
Probably why it soaks into my skin,
and stains my clothes; allowing light to bounce in it.
Like a trampoline park.
The smell of the rain and the atmosphere of the wet and cold;
Petrichor.
YOU ARE READING
Lost, Found, And Chosen.
PoetryThis is a poetry book, it talks about lovers, it talks about everyday situations, it talks about love and the pain accompanied by it; It can break your heart or build it. Take the time to understand this poetry book and its effortless simplicity and...
