Raindrops run indiscriminately
Down the window pane
In awkward, fantastic patterns
That blur what lies in the distance

A little Black girl
Walking, holding the hand of her mother
Pauses, looks down and smiles
Shattering the face
Of the once still puddle
She jumps in and laughs
Unconcerned with the wrath that looks
A moment of joy
That cannot be taken away

Streams form in the gutter
Carrying away cigarette butts,
Trash and discarded dreams
Blood, sweat and tears
That have fallen
And been forgotten by many
The rain, a street baptism
The sweet smell of familiarity,
Rebirth and struggle
Glides succinctly through
The screen doors of the restless

They zig and they zag
Stop
Then travel on
Raindrops down the window pane
I follow them with my fingertips
Until they merge at the bottom
And cease being raindrops
Becoming simply
Water