A Window in Rain
sitting in doors watching it running down the glass
A Window in Rain
Rain begins with a whisper.
Soft on the glass, a secret.
Then it gathers, heavy, endless.
Each drop slides down in haste.
I trace a path with my fingertip.
The window is cold, trembling.
Beyond it, the world is blurred.
Trees dissolve into silver shadows.
Someone passes with an umbrella.
The wind pulls it sideways, broken.
Their shadow bends across the street.
Their feet vanish in the flood.
Why do I stand here and wait?
Why do I linger at windows?
Perhaps I hope for an answer.
Perhaps rain speaks, and I listen.
The pane is slick, the air dim.
I lean closer, I hear a rhythm.
Rain tells stories of departures.
Rain never explains where they go.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
This is one way to view a rain shower or storm, but they sure to help wash away some feelings. Good job.