NEW BEGINNINGS

NEW BEGINNINGS

The rain hits the puddles

in a staccato rhythm.

Tree branches hang low,

weighted with water.

Flowers lift their faces

for their morning washing.

The cold, crisp rain

refreshes and renews.

The clouds wring dry.

The sun returns

to brighten the day.

The air smells clean.

A new day dawns.

A new beginning.

RAIN

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Safe and secure.

Beneath the bridge.

Rain splashing free.

Wild on its journey.

Watering the trees.

Filling the grass.

Life for the flowers.

Puddles for the concrete.

A splash.

A spray.

Cold on my face.

Alive.

Surrounding me.

With life.

A NEW BEGINNING

A NEW BEGINNING

The rain hits the puddles

in staccato rhythm.

A constant 

and mesmerizing sound.

Tree branches hang low,

weighed down with water.

Flowers lift their shiny faces

for their morning washing.

The cold, crisp rain

refreshes and renews.

The clouds dry out.

The sun returns

to brighten the day.

The air smells clean.

A new day dawns.

A new beginning.

PUDDLES OF CRIMSON

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Shades of red fall from the sky,

Reaching the ground in puddles of crimson.

Footsteps of The Dead linger around Oasis.

Taking their victims in their mighty thrall.

Red keeps falling from the darkening sky.

Covering the grass and trees with its hue.

My face burns hot from its touch.

My heart beats blood in quickening tempo.

The Dead are tracking me through the woods.

I will be one with them all too soon.

THE DEAD GAME

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A NEW BEGINNING

The rain hits the puddles in staccato rhythm.
A constant and mesmerizing sound.
Tree branches hang low--weighed down with water.
Flowers lift their shiny faces for their washing.
The cold, crisp rain refreshes.
The clouds dry out.
The sun returns to brighten the day.
The air smells fresh and clean.
A new day dawns.
A new beginning.