Saturday, April 25, 2026

Weaving it

rain gently drips

on tulip petals

my fingertips flow down

the back of your neck

thick gray clouds

drift through the sky

your warm breath 

whispers in my ear

temps in the forties

chill the house

our eyers linger

within their gaze

water beads on 

the roof of the car

your laughter feels

like home

the rain sounds

an applause on the roof

we get lost without

going anywhere


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