Rain

Midnight:
     The gentle patter of each drop unfolding on my windowsill.
Morning:
     The smell of freshly fallen beads like diamond glitter upon the grass.
Thunderous: 
     Where the clouds hold notority but cry tears pure and plain.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace