Nature's Natural Reflections Poem by chris dawson

A raindropp trickles down the pane

The way my finger once traced down your back

Gliding without a care

Aimlessly.




I flick between the opaqueness of the teeming glass

And the clarity of my pouring memory

And see your skin, a naked section

A warm feeling on a cold day

Lifted for a instant, then set down again

A sad moment on a gloomy Sunday.




The beauty of nature before me

Seemingly seen only in reflection

Though whenever I care to look now

I can see.





And though the reflections before me will dry

My recollections will come again like the rains.