Water Works

Outside is a dreary mess,
a canvas dipped in water.
Past the window I glance,
watching raindrops smear down my reflection.
No shadows here, in winters cold embrace.
A pattern drips into my head,
courtesy a thousand patterings upon my roof.
Morning melts into afternoon,
all color and noise muted by the
falling rain,
but still I’ll sit and stare,
to watch the day drip
A
W
A
Y


1/2009