Rain

I can’t imagine you here anymore,

whether it be the passage of time

or if I’ve purposely pushed you

from my mind.

 

This place I call mine,

a place we called ours.

 

Now I pick the flowers,

wash and leave the dishes;

plates standing tall, suds

dripping down like a girl

caught in the rain,

 

but it doesn’t matter

because she was already crying.

 

Image credit.

4 thoughts on “Rain”

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