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There is nothing more peaceful than sitting in the rain. As you sit wherever you are, looking up at the sky with your mouth slightly apart letting the heavy drops roll off your hair and down onto the tip of your nose. then down your cheek and over your lips softly to drip off the end of your chin. You are in a trance, with your eyes slightly apart. making slit shapes with the rain dancing between your eyelashes. You are there, the peace is stronger than anything you have ever experienced. The rain is soft, and you sit ... and wait.

It's a summer storm,
and fat drops
fall from the tips
of grey-green
willow leaves,
to explode like giggles
on the glistening
asphalt path
that snakes past our feet.

This bench has no shelter
but to leave it
I would have to
relinquish your hand
and let my skin
slip away from yours.

And so, here we are
sitting in the rain
turning up our faces
as if we were being
showered in petals,
clinging silently
to each other,
Till only our palms
are dry.

A Wordmongers' Masque: Poets' Ball entry

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