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Down is Wrong
The fall rain smells better on the 10th floor
The rain feels different up here
The cold railing that I hold on to, all of sudden feels like it’s slipping from my grasp
Your arms wrapped around my waist comforts the both of us
I’m learning and listening to the person I’ll eventually be
I’ve played this clip in my head over and over
It didn’t end this happy, but now I see
The dark sheets that covered my ability to live, you went ahead and tossed them out
Something I couldn’t do on my own
They’ve lingered long enough
Pretty Poem
A neato read. A win! ~S~
imho 'the dark rain on the
imho
'the dark rain on the 10th floor' doesn't minister to as many plants and trees, birds and bees, as when it seeps into the ground
your poem is lovely
Thank you so much. I
Thank you so much. I appriciate you taking the time to read it.