drip, drip
that is the sound of the rain
falling, splashing
on the roof of my house
it's a gray, cloudy place
lonely and mist-filled
like something out of a dream
and i am the dreamer
dancing on misty light
painting dewdrops onto grass
it's a light, ethereal place
created by a man
known by everyone and no one
the rain is a song
and i am the singer
the thunder is my drum
and the sun is my spotlight
and i am lost in the magic of the mist
YOU ARE READING
rain
Poetrypoems from dreams and nightmares flow from pen to page incredible rainbows of words painting pictures in my head they can make or break a story swirls of light and dark like fresh sweet air or suffocating fog how is it that pain can be so poetic?
