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.
Dawning Creations 
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