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Rain This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   Rain by C. H., Lisbon Falls, ME

I watch sadly as the rain runs down the screen of my bedroom window. My breath mists and fogs the all-too-real scene I see from the corner where I sit. Grey, everything is so grey. And wet, saturated with the cold dampness of the afternoon. Occasionally a car drives by, splashing water, in such a hurry to get where they're going. At least they know, I think to myself as I wonder where it is I am going and how I'll get there. School children in parkas and raincoats gradually appear, their bright backpacks dulled in the dreary atmosphere. They are the lucky ones, their lives so happy and free. Not yet do they know the pain that life can bring and I pray they will not for as long as possible.

The rain lets up a little. The wind sways the branches which are heavily laden with water, their leaves are still green. Soon they will die, and I will see the same tree but it will be bare and its expression lonesome. I sigh, remembering the warmth of the sun and the freedom the summer gave us. The time you and I were together and it didn't matter where or what we did. We had the sun to warm us and the breeze to cool us. We could run across the fields or sit under the shade of a tree, just your hand in mine ...

I look down at the street below and try to imagine what you're doing. Are you thinking about me? Do you miss me as I you? Again the rain picks up and I watch as a squirrel scurries across the street, pausing a moment to look around and then running up a tree and losing me in its branches. From somewhere downstairs the phone rings and I listen to hear my sister answer it. It reminds me that, though I am alone, others are not. Funny that while I sit here, out there are others, living their lives, doing their laundry, watching TV; others who get to be with the ones they love. The TV calls to me from the next room and I respond. I will try not to think about you not being here or about how much I wish you were holding me in your arms. But as I walk away I can still hear the lonely distant cry of the rain tapping on my bedroom window ...


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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