Dawning Creations

Cars swoosh and splash through puddles,
sending a cool spray on anything that passes.
The rain is steady,
but the fragile breeze
whispers like a child.

I can’t find anything but the rain
and just for now,
it’s not too far fetched to be happy,
not be in place where I should complain.

It’ll be peaceful,
listening to the rain’s pitter patter.
And it’ll be warmer, too,
and there are no apps in a journal.

There are no butteflies with every ting.
There is only the rain and placid playing
in this poetic playground.