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The House Of Rain

Awaiting you, not quite
Awaiting you, perpetually certain 

I used to get wet, when I could afford
Yet, we have so many to care 

The senescent window meets the rain, the rain meets the earth 
    Who loves the rain? 

If you get sick, you’ll get pyretic 
If you get sick, stay home 

When was it that you needn’t brood about fickle time?
  Yet, brewed coffee and papers topple the workbench 

The senescent window meets the rain, the rain meets the earth 
     Who loves the rain? 

You come from them; thin cotton strands, stretched across the blue                                 
Grey in visage, hide the sun
You smell of the sea, life in your sphere 

Rain, come kiss me
On my freckles
We’ll whirl a frolic carnival
As you weep for the days I shed not
My solace, you are 

Rain, come meet me 
On my dark circles
We’ll tell tales along slumbers
And dwell on warmth 
My poetry, you are

Rain, how do you do? How must you do?
I live under your house, under your enchant
Hope, you’ll fall some tea evening 
I love the drizzles in the morning 

Until the next window,
My tears that fall down like silver strings tied

Your person of the sombre room, ears awake

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