Waiting for the rain

Why did no one ever tell me that leaves quivering in the pouring rain is more than I need at any  given moment— enough to wash everything away and bring back buried memories all at once? And when the soaked, chocolate-ridged tree trunk outside my window stands strong, knock knock knocking against the glass gently, saying: I’m here for you I’ll be here when you leave I’ll be here when you’re back, that’s when I know I am happier than I understand.

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