January 19, 2008
rain falls down and licks my window
with little pink tongues
that pit-pat their way through jack frosts’s last visit,
tracing a path through the last ‘t.’
baby droplets slide down the smooth glass panel,
slipping quietly into old wood cracks
where forgotten dust cradles the drowsy tears.
a giant grumble crawls through the sky
as I push open the screen door-

we are both just another child
coming out to play.

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