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Rain

Rain

I love the smell of rain’s first drops,
as it soaks a long parched earth,
and a damp smell arises,
and with it, songs of childhood,
when my mind pitter patters,
like rain on a hot tin roof,
freeing long locked memories,
of the seasonal rhythms,
and our rain songs and the dances,
of puddle hopping and splashing,
as time turns dirt, green in joy.The reflection of street lights,
on the dark asphalt rivers,
as our paperboats with lights,
carry messages in the dark,
bobbing down the creek,
the plops we heard as boats sank,
were the messages we sent,
to ourselves in the future,
that it was the joy given,
even momentarily,
that mattered, boats will sink,
and in days the creeks will dry,
but joy and memories live,
and unlock when rain first falls,
and soaks the parched summer earth.

Author notes

Poem written for a contest “How Does the Rain Affect You?”

© 2017, Charlie Bottle. All rights reserved. © 2009 www.coelhos.us All Rights Reserved

Published inPoem

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