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

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Great torrents come splashing down.

Like endless tiny drums,

they beat on him.

I see him now.

Walking as he always does:

in the rain.

He says it's like music to him.

Gentle flutes for the little drops,

Sometimes cymbals for the larger ones.

Walking as he always does:

in the rain.

He says it mingles with his music.

He listens as he walks,

James Taylor, mostly.

Singing with the symphony of drops.

Like a lullaby,

Soft,

Drowsy,

Complete.

The rain is ending, and he is now gone.

Home now,

To me.




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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