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B Chapman Sep 2017
Grass sticks to the bottom of my feet.
My head tilts back,
capturing the kisses of rain
as droplets race down my throat.

The foggy glow seeping from the east
softly turns my world into a prism.
Colors dance as rain flashes,
the music of thunder humming to me.

Hands circle my waist as lighting
     strikes.
A whisper in my ear urging to come
     inside.
A tug on my wrist as I reach for the
     sky.
I never wanted to be safe and warm.

— The End —