I wake up to a rainy morning.
The pits and pats
Pitter and patter on my windows
The droplets like lullabies
And the breeze like gentle caresses.
Make me fumble for my blanket
Before I went off to sleep.
I wake up again.
The pits and pats
Persist.
I stand and turn on the stove
So I can make some coffee.
I sit back on my bed
And stare out the window.
The droplets obscuring my smile
One might see on the glass’s other side.
I needed it.
I needed the rain and its cold.
So I can use my blanket and drink hot coffee.
So I can need warmth again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
that is the kind of poem i like to read. it flows and it speaks to me.