Wednesday, January 8, 2014

And Again, Tomorrow

If rain were desire
and my mind the clouds
I could feed the rivers, streaming,
and if the trees and grass were need, they would not be wanting
if my mouth lay still as the sidewalks and smooth ground does, we would all be drowned
But you, dry and warm,
could not know the weight of it all.
You, neatly hidden, 
could not know the rain.

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