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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1607722
Even rainy days can give pleasure.
The rain is harsh,
Icy piecing darts slice upon my face,
Soaked through within seconds,
Clothes clinging uncomfortably,
Painting the garments onto my skin.

Looking up into the dark angry sky,
Water fills my nostrils,
Rain drops speed upon me,
As freezing stars past a spaceship.

The street glistens gloomily,
Arcs of dim yellow from lamps,
And headlights holding halos of rain,
The streets shimmer depressingly.

Water pools in dips and hollows,
Cars splash spray upon the pavement,
Umbrella laden pedestrians skip and weave,
Shoulders hunched heads down bearing the greyness.

Dark dreary wet and cold,
Grey depressing bleak and dull,
The half light day holds heavy oppression,
A weighty sky flings its torrential volley.

Comfort though from a coat wrapped tight,
Hood up firmly warm inside,
Memories behind a childhood window,
Watching rivulets dance and race.

Hurrying home, protection waits,
Wet clothes off in soft towel swathed,
Dry clothes on, soothing relief,
Memories arms hold with familiar devotion.
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