but on rainy days you would wait for the transformation of the landscape through broad strokes of light you were smiling and remnants of the storm hanging from your eyelashes you were still shivering you had found Something in your veins or else in your DNA which would lit up your eye
and you knew that the blue that was behind the clouds would not come bac,, that all the little cotton buds that were getting close to one another with some sort of joy would make you shiver, and then would drench you, but you would keep on being in awe.
when the storm breaks out
the taste of the cloud is in
the falling rain