Saturday, April 19, 2008

Pictures Painted

The clouds open up like a storybook,
wet pages spilling heaven's ocean,
audible, crashing, splashing on the street.
Sunlight casts a glow of rich amber
through each droplet, cascading endlessly.

I lay back on a bedspread of so many years
quilted from my love, your laughter, our prayers.
The sun shines through the window glass
and projects the wet cloud tears,
golden, on my skin and across the bed.

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