A Window in Rain
sitting in doors watching it running down the glass
A Window in Rain
Rain begins with a whisper.
Soft on the glass, a secret.
Then it gathers, heavy, endless.
Each drop slides down in haste.
I trace a path with my fingertip.
The window is cold, trembling.
Beyond it, the world is blurred.
Trees dissolve into silver shadows.
Someone passes with an umbrella.
The wind pulls it sideways, broken.
Their shadow bends across the street.
Their feet vanish in the flood.
Why do I stand here and wait?
Why do I linger at windows?
Perhaps I hope for an answer.
Perhaps rain speaks, and I listen.
The pane is slick, the air dim.
I lean closer, I hear a rhythm.
Rain tells stories of departures.
Rain never explains where they go.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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