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  • witbybrit

The Innocence of Rain



Pitter-Patter Pitter-Patter

Raindrops fall, and hit

And splatter.

You giggle

as you send leaves

down a sidewalk stream.

And celebrate

their triumph

over each sidewalk seam.

Then for a moment,

I seize at the chance,

to capture the magic,

while I catch just a glance.

Like a rainbow, in water

as it glides to the gutters.

Your smile, reflected,

in puddles, it flutters.

“Why is it raining?” You ask.

Clearly distracted

by cars

and their splashes.

Beads gather, collect

on your

heavy eyelashes.

“For the plants,” I say.

A vision of fire,

flickers and flashes.

“For the trees,” I continue.

“So they don’t turn to ashes.”


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