Spring brings rain
up from the valleys,
across the mountains.
Mist rises from
the creek in the forest,
turning green grey.
The rain presses against
everything like some forlorn
lover, begging, pleading.
It's touched my shoulder
more than once with soft cold
fingers that quickly slip away.
I've found myself stepping
into grass that clings to my
feet and grey like sheer curtains.
And I remember that breath
is filled with water from human
lungs made of reassembled particles.
And rains is vapor turned liquid,
falling with a rushed abandonment
that must be human...
Maybe, rain is evaporated from
our souls, cooled, and, then,
expelled into nothingness.
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Once, We Lived | Poetry Collection Completed
PoetryA collection of poetry from the high-school years of an semi-angsty teen with too much time on her hands. This is an exploration of the different facets of life and the perceptions of a teen of the 2010s with a knack for words. Warning: contains con...
