Pitter-patter comes the rain
on the filth-stained glass, and the
world is awash in stark color.
Peering out my bedroom window,
The young eyes blink twice — thrice —
Lashes coated in a thick film
of dust from the bookshelves.
River flows in air, and I
burn my neck to keep my hair
Straight, hood up and look straight
ahead, path of my future quick-washed
away by the heavy sheets.
Crack! splits the sky, sending
streams breaking
over my closed eyes, and
brimming under the lids. I blink away
the curtain of curls, made neat and
set loose by the roaring clouds,
flowing freely down my back.
