Glowing rain. Striking window’s pane to reach open souls. Stirring puddles, filled holes. Showering my being in steady down pours. Water’s dive forming shapes to encompass. Let it overflow. Reaching feet that need to quench thirst. Drops sink or float on skin. Touch me and be mine. Sweet sounds of calming waters. Poetry.

via Calming Water — Lucius A. Wulfe

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