The rain in the midlands

Piercing through the fog,
My senses slowly return,
To the sound of rain.

Eagerly waiting,
Behind cloudy horizons,
There is a warm sun.

Rain falls like curtains,
Denoting end of the play,
Yet I cry, “Encore!”

Road becomes muddy,
Though my sandals are ruined,
Flowers are happy.

Exhaustion sets in,
The bench is damp, as am I,
My sigh becomes rain.


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