The rain
It doesn’t ask permission
It just shows shows up,
soft at first,
like someone remembering your name
after a long time
People pull hoods over their heads,
walk faster,
but I slow down.
There’s something honest about rain
the way it says
what it needs to say,
and keeps going.
By the time it's gone,
everything feels
a little cleaner,
even the air between
me and whatever I was worrying about.
Copyright © Reyna Martinez | Year Posted 2025
|