The Rain
the oozing rhythm of rain in the night
from which sleep still waits to be found
calls me to its calming
with the haunt and flow of its sound
a melancholy transforms into joy
with thoughts from the lighting it came
of a daughter and I under shelter
searching skyward through the bless of the rain
Poetry by Eli

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Written on 2010-04-05 at 16:37




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