Raindrops splat on cold concrete
Contorting their existence; washing away
Into a world as beknown to humanity
As the place of their birth

Plastic skin goes unaffected
By the raindrops; who are recreated into
Closet monsters to scare the kids;
Rarely do they greet the tenderness
Of soft welcoming skin

A pair of scarred gummy-bear eyes
Peak from under a heaving umbrella
That feels like home; into a house
With no roof, on a rainy day

“Keep your umbrella straight,
or else you could get wet!”
barks a stern Wah-Wah voice,
and a retreating hand enters the
warm comfort of a pocket, never
to know the feel of raindrops on plastic skin.