For it can be associated with both the shock of sadness and the finding of solace.
Each drop is but a cold incandescence that ironically brings warmth to your heart.
A graceful sway, watching those feet lift like wind, and the rivers in their eyes, camouflaging with that of the earth's cry.
Watch their skin luminesce as their lips bend like that of a sanguine child.
The bright glistening water that makes your appearance grizzled.
The rain that ceases the moment, that captures the aura.
It is when it ceases that the bright literal warmth commences.
And that of ironically can bring the despondency into a hopeless heart.
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Author:
Adam Shirley (
Offline) - Published: January 8th, 2018 20:14
- Comment from author about the poem: Rain is Piovia in Corsican.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
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