Mine,
Clouds gather ominously. The creak of a decrepit windmill cuts through the howling wind. Still, crickets are chirping, until the rain starts. I stand at the screen door, watching the clouds swirl and the windmill turn slowly, listening to the light patter of rain changing into a pounding downpour, feeling the angry wind lashing me with spray, thinking that this could only be better with your chin on my shoulder and your arms around my waist, keeping me warm through the storm.
Yours.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
Mine,
Clouds gather ominously. The creak of a decrepit windmill cuts through the howling wind. Still, crickets are chirping, until the rain starts. I stand at the screen door, watching the clouds swirl and the windmill turn slowly, listening to the light patter of rain changing into a pounding downpour, feeling the angry wind lashing me with spray, thinking that this could only be better with your chin on my shoulder and your arms around my waist, keeping me warm through the storm.
Yours.