This Precious Rain (poem)

There is that I see
The storms passing by
The windows
The swiftly changing seasons

There are flowers at my feet
Love at my breast
Hope in the eyes of children
More than hope
There is vision

There is fire of heart
It reminds one
Of one's beginning
As the cars pass swiftly

The dirt the city the dust
The changing day
The dead the passing
The time
The time is passing

The sky is rain that falls
That washes away the dirt
That is that flows through
The child that you were
Before you forgot
This rain
This precious rain
Is what cleanses

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© Vincent B. Rain

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