Wednesday, March 06, 2013

She loves the rain

She lies among the weeds, hidden in the tall grass. The rain starts falling around her the tips of the grass flow back and forth, dancing to the music off the morning shower. She opens her mouth to catch the rain, to taste the rain, to allow the rain to saturate her being. The rain taps on her forehead, it swims down her arms, it wiggles between her toes. She stares up at the falling drops and counts them. The grass is heavy, and slumps down beside her, over her, covers her, as if trying to hide her further. The tip tap of the splashes on the blades of grass dance in her ears. She cannot help but smile. The rain comes harder and she knows that this temporary paradise is coming to and end. Out of the grass is the real world where she is surrounded by problems and not nature. Her covering does not bow to the rain, but costs her daily freedom. She would rather stay with the rain, but responsibility has a firm grasp. Just one moment longer.

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