The Drop

Clear drops of liquid fall from a boring white sky
Air whooshes past them as they dive downward
Closer, closer comes the Earth
Where will they land?
Unnavigated, fate plans their destination in partnership with gravity
Will it land on the chipped, blue paint of the cold metal monkey bars?
Or maybe it will land on the pink sweater left sad on the grass, forgotten from a past recess?
A pile of round river pebbles sit on gray pavement, the remainders of a planned tower construction in the sand pit, could be the victim
Swings moving in what little wind there is, worn plastic cracked and hard with time, maybe they are the target
A child, small with wavy white blonde hair races across the gravel playground, he forgot his hat
The drop falls faster and faster
Plop! it lands on the child's nose
Its journey is complete





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