[33] – Ripples
“I love watching the rain.”
The boy loosened his grip on
His blue umbrella.
“I think I’ve noticed.”
He paused.
“And maybe I’m starting
To learn to love the rain too.”
“The bridge is my favorite
Spot out of the city though.”
The boy saw that the girl
Never looked away from the falling rain.
“Why is that?”
The girl pointed at the ripples all over the lake.
“Because I think this is an
Obvious physical metaphor
That if you are as beautiful
As the rain
And you fall,
You’ll cause ripples
Affecting even the loneliest strangers.”
The girl put her hand atop the boy’s.
They watched together,
As quiet as the rain,
As a single raindrop
Fell onto
Their closely
Interclasped
Hands.
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
