Pale lashes fall on full cheeks
Destined for slumber til morning.
While life meanders on
Thunder peals in the distance.
The sleeper does not hear it–
Warm beneath winter fleece.
Heat from a short day
Loses strength quickly
Against the pull of a storm.
Fat droplets explode on cobblestone
Filling microscopic holes,
Ejecting their small compounds
Expressing the smell of rain.
A dry spell may not last forever,
Mr. Barrie told me, but then,
He said forever could possibly last
For only three seconds.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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