Tuesday, September 1, 2009


The rain and I
Have always been friends.
I once feared a thunderstorm,
And my mother said
the angels were bowling,
That set right
I have loved it since.
Curled up with a book
By an open window,
Walking in it
At each opportunity.

One time
My worried husband
Came looking
With the children
In the car.
Another time
I ran naked
With a lover,
The cool soft drops
Upon my skin.

Now a grandmother,
A great grandmother,
I was out before dawn,
Without the lover,
Still sweet, still cool
And soft upon my skin.
The woman,
Ghost of the girl within.

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