My Drought
Let me feel the rain for the first time,
May my skin be sanctified with its humidity?
Never before had I truly felt its delight,
Only have I neglected the privilege.
Perhaps the rain will gather upon my shoulders,
Quilting my senses with the sound of every drop.
Rightfully it could leave my depth dry,
Seeking the attention I once denied the rain.
Through the intricacies I twirl about,
Unable to convince the damp to caress.
Vying for its affection I plead quietly,
Waiting for the rain to call to me.
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