Grey clouds crack open, weeping angels,
rain cascades, a liquid broom
washing earth's filth and sin.
The smell? Enigmatic—spring's embodiment,
summer evening's bold scent.
Drops like strings, smacking,
a hundred clapping hands under a faucet.
The wind keeps pace, whooshing,
shaking excess from leaves.
Tires glide on wet slick,
cars pass like crashing waves.

Peaceful, serene, innocent, refreshing.
Cold strings, exploding like macro water grenades,
rejuvenate skin.
A wonder to stare at, always.
Whether three, experiencing first cognizance,
or thirty-one, marveling.
Rain, a majestic measure of universal peace
in a world of chaos and noise.
Chaotic itself, like a jazz band drumming,
wind wailing past windows—
yet so serene.

Still, rain brings annoyance.
Bones ache, joints lock and creak,
and a youthful strut turns rusty tin-man waltz.
But its mysticism deafens pain
and frees the mind to fly.
Clarity, a rare enigma,
tickles skin raises arm hairs,
kisses lips with reality,
appearing ****, flirting with prismatic curves—
often ignored, and unnoticed.
Euphoria is splendidly remiss.

So easy to catalog memories,
reflect in life's mirror,
and determine what needs changing.
Everything changes with time.

Life, a garden.
We inherit seeds of knowledge,
plant interesting parts.
Love and sadness water, shine on plants
bearing flowers we call friends:
tulips, lilacs, dangerous roses.
Unique: blue, orange, red, white, pink.
Some sweet, some foul.
Each one is unique.
Flowers grow wild and wilt on vines.
Some aren't flowers, but weeds,
diseasing what they touch, like death.
Covered in insects, eroding beauty.
As a gardener, you decide:
anarchic disarray?
Or grab shears, and prune ugliness.
Friends who matter won't let your soul wilt.
Yes, rainfall brings such clarity.

But clarity's bubbles are superficial.
Easily burst, window closing, smog reconfiguring.
A bowling ball rolls across the sky and strikes pins—
a lucky strike.
Tree branches of light shoots extend,
lasts a second, and seems slower.
Adrenaline rushes, heart pounds like a drum.
Seconds pass, another strike, another flash.
A storm had come...
and it would pass.

I want to break
all the shackles
that bind my heart
to you.
I want to break free.

Take away all the hurt.  
Take away all the pain.
I want to breathe.
I  want to break free.

It took three seconds
for a cautious hello
to turn into a symphony for my soul.

I wonder if my walls still remember
the laughter that went on till dawn.
Since then, the mirror seemed kinder,
my legs moved quicker,
and my smile did not vanish.

I have never felt this way before—
sleep seemed futile,
hunger vanished.
I wrote about you
until my hands hurt.

I could feel your heartbeat
through the light blue shirt you wore.
The hidden patch of your beard was exposed.
Your words fell into mine—
look at our human noise.

The old couple looked at us in envy.
Maybe we will get there too.

The moon followed us,
and we heard wedding bells.
Your pretty hand fits well in mine—
just right.

I couldn’t wait to call you home.

I woke up this morning
with a thought that said
I think I can I think I can  

I woke up with the sun
making swirlies in the sky
How high, how high ?

I woke up believing
I could change the world
and so I did !!!