I’m a snowflake falling through night’s mute darkness
landing in the prismatic puddle of gasoline
left by the fumes of your car’s exhaust
collecting on top of the gravelly grime
of an Amazon fulfillment center
where the snow settles but never sticks
in the ascending puddles behind your car.

Vowels and consonants

Pool together into words

As my emotions rain down

The grim and grit

Of every memory clings

To each sentence

Until I step in

Then they collect on me

Dampening fingertips

And soaking my tongue

I jump in

Splashing out thoughts

Until I am coated in my imagination

I stomp through

The puddles of letters

Saturating me with words

And sentences are dripping

From my chin

Many are the droplets that bead upon the windows pane.
As I look beyond the misted glass at the slowly falling rain.

Low hung wisps of white race upon the grey-est sky.
And puddles form with unheard splash before captivated eye.

The ground is damp and made sodden by the ever steady flow.
And so to now runs a stream that follows where kerb bids it to go.

Leaves upon trees seem now burdened by drops so hard to bear.
Made to shed their cargo by the motions of puff of dampened air.

A distant roll of thunder to accompany the patter on roofs tin.
A symphony by nature heard, whilst warm and dry within.

I look on as melancholy witness through drizzles on the glass.
Melancholy not through rain, but rather, from knowing it will pass.