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Poetry
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| weather | |
| By no1butClo | ||||
| 25 May 2006 | ||||
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This is unfinished, any suggestions or improvements would be really helpful as I haven't read alot lately and it's taking it's toll. I don't like the title either, but it's the best I could do. Warm, cool, summer rain, sliding down my goosebump skin, pushing knots from my hair and congealing it, into a matt that lies heavy on my cold shoulders. I feel alive. Shivers push the tension down my spine and I begin to walk, slowly, like an unsure pinocchio. The surface stirs my toes to life, and in turn they nudge my ankles, so I lift a foot again to meet the film of liquid glass. It breaks like a torrent, but smooth, as if the tears had grown sweet in the night to soften this blow.
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