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Jun 2018
Black asphalt

Damp bicycle tires

Sparkling trees

The whole of the street scene is blurry and softened

As though covered in a layer of oil paint

The barefoot laughing, no-longer-dry-mouthed children are dancing in backyards

Kicking up mud and dirt with reckless abandon

We dream of moments like these

So soft they live on in memoriesΒ Β 

Like down feathers on strong wide wings

Sweet-smelling, heather-scented moments

These moments of gentle, dawn-colored rain

Can you feel how your withered heart opens up?

It's ready to heal
Written by
Rachel Rode
  432
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