Poetry Entries
Part 11

Glass as clear as the morning dew,
the breeze flows in through the windows,
nothing new,

but the wind,
cool on my face,
stops telling stories when people stop listening,

nothing compares to the summer rain,
when the streets are warm,
and the pavement dark and soaked,
and the pain floats away,

when you don't care if your clothes stick to your body,
wet lips,
and light shoulders.

Time stops while your thoughts get bolder.

Cover Image: @DanVelduizen