Each drop smacks my skin with a forceful plop,
and at first, I don't mind this fresh bath.
But as the rain picks up, forceful becomes painful
when the drops fall harder and faster on my bare skin.
I'm not alone, the others are too at the mercy of the rain,
but I think I am the only one that would rather not be here.
At times, the ground looks like freedom,
complete with bugs, grass, and dirt.
It's not right to wish to fall, I can't tell them
that I wait for the day when I'm on my own.
Here, we are a family, cared for by our trunk,
united by our branches, attached by our stems.
Here, we are fortunate; given food, water, security,
but I wonder what it's like to be on my own.
I want to blow freely in the wind, dancing
my way from limb to perch.
I want to meet the grass and the flowers,
and make friends with the earthworms.
I look forward to when it's my turn to fall;
to them, it's the end, but to me,
it's only the beginning.
It started pouring today really violently for about 25 minutes. I was napping, as usual, and the sound of the rain on my window sill woke me up.
ReplyDeleteI love when it rains when I'm in my room at home because I love how rhythmic the rain sounds. I was just thinking that it must be kind of painful to be repeatedly pelted with large rain drops and now be able to get shelter, so I decided to write about it.