Journal Entry # 180 – Be Someone Who Smiles in the Rain

This was last year in the park.

Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet. – Roger Miller

For That Moment

black and white clear cool dew

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.

No Pattern to the Mist

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.