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.

I'm 25 and my shirt glows in the dark. A skeleton rock on symbol lights up as the world darkens around me. That's always been me though, never growing up fully, and I would never apologize for that result.

Responsibilities ****. Showing up every day only to do it all again tomorrow can get pretty **** tedious and is constantly boring. But when we find the little things that bring light to the darkness, who are we to turn them away. Of course we can't always have the light because we wouldn't appreciate it nearly as much. Sure, we will have those things that take up space, the things that we have to do in order to live, but that is not our definition. Our dreams perpetually change - we have no definition. Our best bet in this world is to find those things that bring light and hold on to them.

So wear that glow in the dark t-shirt, wear those dinosaur footy pajamas, jump in puddles, watch cartoons, eat sweet cereals, draw horribly, sing innocently, get excited about the little things. Because life isn't one whole big thing - it's made up of millions of smaller pieces - collect the good ones.



-t.s.

If I were a steaming cup of tea-
Fresh from the kettle-
And you were a solid cube of ice
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a hot blacktop pavement-
Searing from the sun-
And you were a sticky piece of gum
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a pocket to a pair of overalls-
Tumbling from the dryer-
And you were a waxy type of crayon
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were myself-
Sizzling from your love-
And you were yourself-
Going in for a hug-
You’d melt me like a puddle, and we’d be one.

It’s pouring outside.
Raindrops fall on my window.
Making small puddles