as always
the rain draws me to the window
its fingers playing the roof
the wind snapping its tail
the blessed hiss of wet
on spring buds
I never know quite what to say
beyond the fact
that I must say something
the rain draws me to the window
its fingers playing the roof
the wind snapping its tail
the blessed hiss of wet
on spring buds
I never know quite what to say
beyond the fact
that I must say something
___
4:39 a.m.
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