Summer in the Sunday


 

The rain plays tag and chase along the casing of the sill,I will stay in bed to watch and see, if and when they catch what shall they be?
two drops that fall or will the catching stop it all,to join,conjoin or not.
What fun a spot of rain,such joy to see the rise and wane of water on the window pane when I am safely tucked in bed,though I chase too within the thoughts that race around my head.
In bed it’s safe,a wrap around,the only sound the pit a pat of drops that spit and drown the view of anything but not of you,
and you are everywhere,in me and what I see,believing,breathing,teasing stop,I watch another falling drop,
one more pit
one more pat
I fall sleep and that is that.

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