Mom "Don't go outside it's raining"
Our great thinkers used to go out in the rain
Why must I be contained during such a spectacle?
What has changed? Let's see...
Mom " You'll get sick"
So our faucet dispenses a fluid purer than what freely falls from the clouds?
What leaks through our ceiling isn't just a sign to fix our roof
Maybe it's trying to drip back into our lives
How do I know the rain doesn't miss me?
What if the rain longs to sweep down my skin?
I won't know
Because "common sense" is overshadowing any piece, any connection we have to becoming a TRUE BEING
alive
Mom "Don't go outside its raining"
Child "Okay"
*I miss you too rain