November 16, 2010
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We filled white plastic buckets to the brim with transparent water,
Giggling like hyenas on laughing gas.
We raced our tiny pink sandals
Down the petite river that forms on the edge of the road
When the clouds pour.
Our drenched tendrils of hair fell against cold shoulders,
Soaked from a flourishing storm that sent strips of fire across the sky.
We ran after our shoes,
Riveted, racing against the rain,
Throwing thunder back at the storm,
Celebrating the sky’s tears as we created our own Heaven.

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