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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2139332
The first rains of spring

Awoken by its sweet perfume
The smell of which fills my room
The rains are here once again
The pitter-patter of my old friend
Its gentle notes revealed in song
The storm bird calls, and sings along
Spring is here, the crops rejoice
The flowers sigh in one voice.
Beauty revealed in its many forms
The Summer rains and Winter storms
Puddles cast as children play
Mud is thrown then washed away
Children’s laughter fills the air
My mother's voice, "You wouldn't dare
Muddied boots and soggy clothes
Footprints lead to the old wood stove
Gathered around its warm embrace
Its gentle flame warms my face
Supper served, we have our fill
Put to bed against my will
Hours pass, the stars descend
Until tomorrow my old friend.

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