The Hiatus

    Like tiny stones from heaven I hear raindrops hit our roof.  Corrugated then fragile, our roof produces music as the rain dances for it.  Without a ceiling, I hear the clasps directly, magnified to a level no other child of my age could enjoy.  Lying while it’s raining, directly beneath the roof, I can imagine the cold raindrops hitting my body.  I could see the blurry landscape rendered by the soothing tempest.  And I could hear the playing laughs of the children just outside.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 7th, 2007 at 4:00 am and is filed under Feelings, She. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.