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Dec 2011
An arid thin breeze whips my back.
The dirt beneath my feet is brittle and cracked.
With each step dust envelops my toes and fills the grooves in my skin.
My face greets the promise of rain
It is heavy and cool.
Small drops begin to suppress the dust creased on my forehead.
Soon, I am overwhelmed in the silent symphony,
Small crystal gems scatter all around,
I think I like this change.
I think I like the rain.
Grace McQuillan
Written by
Grace McQuillan
598
   Makiya
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