Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2023
He's sleeping in the next room
it rained today
That kind that waters wildflowers and makes trodden paths all sticky
I thought I wouldn't know him
Months ago, one perfect night
we listened to the rain outside the window of my hotel room
I set out the next morning
mud stuck to my shoes
And the path led back to him
Written by
Runaway Joe
Please log in to view and add comments on poems