Shouldn't be all rainbows and sparkles. Because those are the quotes that, once everything turns to the wind and scatters the perfect little bubble the quote revolved around, get tossed over a shoulder and trampled into the dirt.
They should be the quotes that you can read in the hard times or the happy times, and yet still get the same amount of insight out of them.
My current personal favorite?
"Life isn't about staying dry, it's about learning how to play in the rain."
Showing posts with label rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rain. Show all posts
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Like the Rain
Listen
to the downpour from the sky
falling freely from the clouds
to mingle with the earth
and hang from the leaves
Watch
as it patters harmlessly
on the head of the woman
as she sits in her windowsill
guitar on her knee
swinging her bare foot in the cold drizzle
and it drips onto the strings
that she plucks mindlessly
letting her fingers wander freely
through the droplets
to find a new chord
her eyes are closed
and she hums a melody
never before scripted
and it drips into the hollow
vibrating ever so slightly
as her thumb scrolls out a new melody
making the wood echo
with the sounds of her song
the drops chase the strings
like a wild love
free to go where they will
but always choosing the same path
dripping
away from the window
to what lies below
the sky never clears
and the drops just keep coming
but the song
finishes
and the woman goes inside
and dries her guitar
and leaves it propped
in a corner
to be brought out again
like the rain.
to the downpour from the sky
falling freely from the clouds
to mingle with the earth
and hang from the leaves
Watch
as it patters harmlessly
on the head of the woman
as she sits in her windowsill
guitar on her knee
swinging her bare foot in the cold drizzle
and it drips onto the strings
that she plucks mindlessly
letting her fingers wander freely
through the droplets
to find a new chord
her eyes are closed
and she hums a melody
never before scripted
and it drips into the hollow
vibrating ever so slightly
as her thumb scrolls out a new melody
making the wood echo
with the sounds of her song
the drops chase the strings
like a wild love
free to go where they will
but always choosing the same path
dripping
away from the window
to what lies below
the sky never clears
and the drops just keep coming
but the song
finishes
and the woman goes inside
and dries her guitar
and leaves it propped
in a corner
to be brought out again
like the rain.
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