Making sure the dollar umbrella is open,
I walk into the world protecting my
head, ears and coiffure. The rest of me
throws my body in denims blue, that
...
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Lovely poem. Fight for struggle is always there but the thrill of being out in rain is its own reward. When it slips I know life is slipping by me. Thanks for sharing.
Each raindrop marks the passage of time. Perhaps we do not notice it, but at times the drops rage and the result is a torrent. Ignoring is now done at one's peril. A great lesson taught in such a subtle, magnificent way. Terrific poem, Sarah.