Original Poetry – It Pours

It Pours by Jen Lowry

A drop hits my hand

I look down and see the shape of it

Before it sinks into skin

And becomes a part of me

It’s cold as it hits my arm

It makes me grit my teeth

They grind and the rain pounds

And I bend my head down

Who owns umbrellas these days

Not me

No need

The taking in of rain

Is the way it is supposed to be

From the beginning I imagine it this way

And as I cry the tears

They fade into the face of streaks of rain

And no one knows but me

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