what a thoughtful descension
rain is to rhyme
a steady sensation
removing the grime
from the colorless street
well-trodden and dreary
cleansing a mind
laden and weary
with worries and cares
of present and past-tense
with a touch of despair
and such frivolous nonsense
the pitter-patter of droplets
distracts from the pathetic
lifting my spirits
to the poetically aesthetic
if only the rain
would continue to fall
my pen would keep writing
and my troubles would stay small.
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