Rainy Sunday

Rain arrives before the clouds do

Soft footsteps on the roof

From someone you almost remember

The sky folds itself like a bedsheet

Tucks a corner into the horizon

And suddenly the morning feels

Like a room you’ve walked into twice

Puddles bloom in the hallway

Reflecting furniture that isn’t there

A chair made of yesterday’s thoughts

A lamp that glows with someone else’s Memory

Your coffee spirals upward in a thin Ribbon

Curling around your wrist

As if it’s trying to tell you

The ending of a story you haven’t begun

Outside

The trees sway in unison

Not with the wind

But with the rhythm of a dream

You forgot to finish last night

A raindrop taps the window

Splits into a tiny doorway

And for a moment you see yourself

Standing on the other side

Wondering which version of you

Woke up first

On this rainy Sunday

Time moves like a sleepwalker

Slow

Gentle

Slightly misplaced

And the world feels stitched together

With threads of water

Threads of dream

Threads of something you can’t name

But somehow understand