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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2260942
Love that does not provide ease is not love at all.
Meet me on a street loved by the falling of rain,
When the smell of the earth has risen and rivulets have paraded the lane,
I will gaze at you from under my shaded cover,
I will dream of a rendezvous under the shower of a bower.

The soaked earth has reinstated the withering seedling,
You seep into dried hopes, reigniting and coddling,
With every breath I gather into my trespassing doubt,
You clear the webs and light the rout.
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