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★★★★★ (1)
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1930453

A short poem of rain... Being angry, I guess. At what, you may ask? We may never know...

Wooden weels
pirouette across
the frozen
stones.
Biding their time,
the puddles
drown the
silence, hungrily
accepting the
kisses of
rain falling
silently across
the
ground.
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