The Smell of Rain
It’s raining again.
Turning the street into a window,
Where you can see
The mirror world,
Just beneath its surface,
If you look carefully,
Between the pebbles of light.
It’s raining again.
Unfading the color of the world.
The grey sky.
Stark.
Behind the pink plumb tree petals,
The red of rocks,
And greenierness
Of the grass,
As it desperately
Gulps the rain.
It’s raining again.
So perfectly picturesque,
That I wish I could take
A photograph.
But, then the lens
Would get wet.
So I’ll just have to breathe it all into
A memory,
And catalogue it under
“the smell of rain.”
-M.M.
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Good descriptions. I can see them. Now you have given me another challenge to write like you. It will take a while. This piece is colorful not writen in black, greys, and white.
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