(Untitled)

 

A girl in the rain.
The rolling dark clouds overhead,
The wet dirt sticking to her feet all the way to her ankles,
She was the girl in the red shirt.

A girl in the rain
The loud sound of the birds chirping,
The rain dripping down her arms,
The twigs crunching under her bare feet.
The thunder as loud as an elephant stomping right next to her,
She was the girl in the red shirt.

A girl in the rain.
The sour, yet sweet taste of rain water,
Falling into her mouth when she spoke,
The happiness she felt with every drop,
Of water that fell on her,
She was the girl in the red shirt.

A girl in the rain.
The sweet aroma of flowers and rain together,
She IS the girl in the red shirt.

 

 

Authors Note:

This poem explains one of the most exciting memory I have of my younger years.  My brother and I had these large elephant plants growing in our back yard. We were both little enough to hide under the leaves. So, when it rained, my mom would take my brother and I outside and cut the leaves from the plant and give them to us. We would run outside in the rain until we were freezing.

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