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Nov 2013 · 561
Sobs of the Sky
Connor Shapiro Nov 2013
The wipers sweep back and fourth,
as if they are waving to the clouds
that cry onto my windshield.

Pacing down the highway,
the mile makers pass by.
Over the rivers dried up so bad,
the rain has left an ensuing swamp of mud.

The rain picks up, wipers waving faster.
The radio is on as loud as it can go,
but is drowned out by the rains
syncopated beats.

The highway fills with sitting water,
as the sky lets out its ever continuing sob.

As the wipers wave and the radio plays,
a rainbow appears, stretching out over the horizon ahead.
As an inviting gate, to another land,
soaked with the sobs of the sky.
Connor Shapiro Nov 2013
The distance that sets us apart
seems so vast when you compare
the distance of our hearts.
Meant to be?
Possibly, something I can see,
as if anything is ever a guarantee.
I find a void to fill the ache,
in the little things,
the little moments we share,
the words that always care.

I am not sure if I love
because of love.
Or simply,
because of who you have become,
always undone, never finished.

The world continues spin 'round,
as you continue to grow.
As the roots anchor themselves,
truth impedes the plot.  
But the distance we will be apart
cannot compare,
to the distance that once was
between our hearts.

— The End —