[80] - Pluviophile
It's been a year now.
The boy sat on
The roof top
Alone except for all the stars,
And her notebook in his lap.
He took his pen and wrote:
"Death claims all of us
But I refuse to let it
Take her away.
I won't ever forget
So she will live
In my memories
And in my dreams.
I loved the rain.
I loved her."
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
PoetryIt was a rainy day, in New York no less. One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop. One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment. short story #98 poetry #51
