Last night I stood in the rain;
Hard and wet and stinging my skin;
Collecting at the tips of my lashes;
Waiting to be rain again.
Last night I stood in the rain;
Washing down, smoothing my hair;
Changing the color of my clothes.
Whispering, tapping, screaming & flapping.
I awoke to the puddles
Collected by the house;
Memories of last night’s rain;
Of past years’ pain.
Wavering pools to make me recall
The wet and the sting and the bite of it all.
This morning revealing in puddles appearing
The flight I was feeling as last night’s rain kept me sane.
--Kimberly Jorgensen Gane Original, Copyright 2010, all rights reserved.
April's theme for NaBloPoMo on BlogHer is Poem. This is one I wrote back when I lived in Michigan, where it rained often. I dearly miss the cleansing feeling of rain, a good old-fashioned Midwest thunderstorm and the fresh smell of it in the morning.
Hard and wet and stinging my skin;
Collecting at the tips of my lashes;
Waiting to be rain again.
Last night I stood in the rain;
Washing down, smoothing my hair;
Changing the color of my clothes.
Whispering, tapping, screaming & flapping.
I awoke to the puddles
Collected by the house;
Memories of last night’s rain;
Of past years’ pain.
Wavering pools to make me recall
The wet and the sting and the bite of it all.
This morning revealing in puddles appearing
The flight I was feeling as last night’s rain kept me sane.
--Kimberly Jorgensen Gane Original, Copyright 2010, all rights reserved.
April's theme for NaBloPoMo on BlogHer is Poem. This is one I wrote back when I lived in Michigan, where it rained often. I dearly miss the cleansing feeling of rain, a good old-fashioned Midwest thunderstorm and the fresh smell of it in the morning.
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