Thursday, 20 March 2014

Summer Rain

Pitter Patter.
The incessant drizzle.
Drumming in her head.
Drumming around her.

But the window is open,
Not a drop is falling.
Where is the rain?
Where is the sun?

Where is the giver of life anew?
Where is that which makes old things new?
Why does she hear it thundering through?
Why can she not see through the draught?

The silence resonates.
Mind muddled.
Where is the light?
Summer radiates with no sun?

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