I still hear the rain dripping onto my roof.
We’re in the middle of a drought.
The aroma of spring rain lingers around me.
The air is so dry my skin parches.
My cheeks feel the rain drops still.
My tongue yearns to catch them falling,
remembering ever so vividly their light impact.
But the sun is out.
It hasn’t rained in months,
no clouds have even hinted
and yet all I can think about is the rain
filling every pore of me.
The thing is … I don’t really like rain.
I don’t see the fascination,
but the thought of it won’t leave me alone.
Those few good memories with rain remain.
I can savor the sun all I want…
that still doesn’t stop me from wanting
the rain to return and sweep me off my feet.
Love
One Thing I Know
Free Write Friday Prompt~
You wake to find yourself in a strange house and you cannot remember your own name. You roll over and see a letter by the bed. Is it for you? Who is it from? What does it say? Does it explain where you are and why?
Rolling over, I breathe in deeply. I’m comfortable but I can’t think of what on earth I’m doing here. Why I’m laying in this somewhat chilly room that is void of any sort of decoration. The only thing I notice is an envelope. I cautiously test out my fingers’ strength as I pick it up, flip open the flap and pull out a sheet of paper. This is what it says.
You are free now. You may not remember anything but you’ll be that much better for it. You won’t have to worry about me. You won’t have to feel that pain anymore. The doctors took care of that. Unfortunately, I can’t handle the pain anymore. That’s why you are free. Free to live a new life. Not many people get second chances, but you do. You will look different. That was part of the deal. Memory wiped and different appearance. Now they won’t find you and neither will I. It’s better this way. I can’t risk you being found. Farewell, my love. Perhaps we’ll meet in another life.
<
A tear has leaked out of my eye so I wipe it away, unsure of what I should be thinking. I know that sideways V is incomplete, that there should be a 3 next to it. I may not know my name, who wrote this or why anyone would be looking for me in the first place… this one thing I do know.
Somewhere by someone, I’m loved.
Sewn In
The needle was in
even before
the dress was ready.
The softness had glanced
at the needle’s point,
sharp but beautiful,
wondering how on earth
it would feel
to be sewn together.
The needle weaved
ever seamlessly into
the fabric, binding it in.
The dress loved
what the needle did–
made everything complete
and beautiful.
Patching up all the spots
yet leaving her essence.
Once the needle finished
weaving it’s sweet melody,
there was a harsh tug
that cut the chord.
The needle was torn
away, leaving the dress
behind as it returned
to the cushion that held
all the other pins.
The dress stood
stunning but missing
the needle’s magical song.
The cushion disappeared.
Now the dress wonders
whether if another needle
will ever fix any of those
seams again or if someone
would wear her out.