Rain, will you come?

Blue. Gray. Looks of foreboding. Hope in the distance. Rain, will you come? Rain, will you stay? Will you sprinkle the grass, The leaves, The air?

Blue. Gray.
Looks of foreboding.
Hope in the distance.

Rain, will you come?
Rain, will you stay?
Will you sprinkle the grass,
The leaves,
The air?

Will you wet the earth with kisses?
Will you salute with taps against the windows?
Will you patter a dance in the streets?

Rain, will you come?
Escape the heavy clouds that surround?

Rain, will you stay?
Hidden in the soft wool-like fluff that flies, high?

Rain, will you go?
Go away?
Without saying
Hello?

© S. Ann Comte, 11 February 2014

Posted by

Writer. What more can be said. Actually, a lot. So, just read and find out.

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