Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet. – Roger Miller
Under this street light
pouring down rain in the cold
alone, and done wrong
A writer is a world trapped in a person. – Victor Hugo
I sat one day.
Alone, on a palette chair.
Sit in spatters and their quiet stories.
Did watch as pebbles danced in entertain.
For granted, I was easily led.
So naive that tomorrow won’t go away.
It was a peace that drunk me.
There, emotion could never touch.
Strange was any voice of hurt.
All this in a moment.
Oh, how I miss counting out-loud with the rain,
a grey big sky with a smile…and
…my ignorant heart.
Rain showers my spirit and waters my soul.
– Emily Logan Decens
Hearing the rain reminds me of nights stayed in, There was always something soothing about the wind; The house shaking with every blowing gale, The lights would blink, the lights would fail; An extra blanket may be needed, it's bound to get cold, Holding the covers tight, the heat I must hold; The winds and rain violently crashing against the glass, Each and every gust so much different than the last; Whipping at the window no pattern to the mist, Sometimes the sounds would allow me to drift; I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, The storm outside sometimes defines how I'm feeling; As the rain pours down I get lost in my thoughts, I recall the memories I had almost forgot; Nowhere to be and nowhere to go, Whistling of the wind as it continues to blow; Tonight I’ll curl up to the howling pitter patters, For now at least nothing else matters.