7 views
first rain
lying by the window,
listening to the rain.
theres a chill in the air,
and if I teeter at the cliff of my imagination,
swinging my legs,
that chill is your breath on my face.
this poetry
that usually
pours out of me,
tonight it comes in...
listening to the rain.
theres a chill in the air,
and if I teeter at the cliff of my imagination,
swinging my legs,
that chill is your breath on my face.
this poetry
that usually
pours out of me,
tonight it comes in...
