I am not a poet.

[thulcandran]

This fountain is dry as a bone, and wishing into it makes no difference at all.

My heart thirsts for a rain
the laughter of rain in rhythm
the way the whole world shines therein

I miss the look of rain
how it can't decide what color to be
the drawing, pulling light of rain

The way it falls, the way it moves
the weight of it against my skin
the clean of it, and the joy

Rain understands my soul
and I am in love with
the rain.