Thursday, July 28, 2011

Poem #515

Under the wide cover when the skies turn to gray,
Making people run from the streets into the shelter of buildings.
Blocking you from the tears that pour from the sky,
Rivers washing down over the whole Earth.
Endless, clear streams of water, soaking the streets, the grass.
Leaking between the cracks in the sidewalks, creating puddles.
Letting the water roll down over the sides, past you,
And remaining dry beneath the protection of the,

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