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Wet

Marcy

The rain comes down in earnest,
And it beats a steady tune,
Could it be their teardrops,
From a hidden moon,
The music of the raindrops,
Taps on an uncovered head,
Tapping out it’s purposeful beat,
When most are home in bed.
 
 
There is no thought of rain gear,
It’s a pleasure to walk in the rain,
Though it makes the joints sore and ache,
It seems to take the inner pain,
At times the rain hits the face,
But no one can see what’s true,
The teardrops running down are hidden,
Hidden from even you.
 
 
Many people if it’s raining,
Run from shelter to their door,
For me it’s just the opposite,
I want to feel those raindrops more,
For reasons that are unknown to me,
In the rain people always run,
As if they might melt away,
Yet they lie burning in the sun.
 
 
Even if you get soaking wet,
You just need a towel to dry,
It’s not as if you would float away,
With that teardrop in your eye,
You run from little drops of rain,
As we hate to see our tears,
While both are just a way to see,
The flood flowing from our fears.
 
 
In the darkness we slowly walk,
Soggy footsteps mark our way,
And as the teardrops slowly fall,
The moon has something to say,
Those raindrops turn into rivers,
And those rivers flow to the sea,
Does that mean our teardrops falling,
Are a river inside me.
 
 
If soaking wet none can notice,
That as the rain runs away,
Our fears are taken from us,
And love comes out to play,
Raindrops fall to wash everything,
To wash away the dirt and grime,
As teardrops water all our dreams,
And love brings bright sunshine.

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