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Rain Race
The tranquil rain falls down and soaks my feet,
My red umbrella bouncing with the wind.
Damp drops dance deftly on the empty street,
But fall alone. The throngs of folks have thinned.
Just I remain as blue sky turns to dark,
Clouds huddling close to block away the sun.
My spine leans backwards on the peeling bark.
The tree behind me slowly comes undone.
Leaves tick my face as from full trees they fall.
Sticks snap beneath as thunder cracks above.
Below my knee- small droplets, down they crawl,
Sometimes combined- a sweet, young pair in love.
At once a gust blows water in my face.
Too cold, I run against the rain- a race.
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This article has 2 comments.
I have always loved rain, watching it, playing in it, and listening to it. This sonnet honors the beautiful rain.