I turn into a little girl again when it rains.
I open my mouth to let a stray raindrop or two fall down my throat and, at this point, I have to believe that raindrops give me the giggles.
Click, click, click—
Plopping on the shingles, like on grandma’s lap
Ready to sing a bedtime song.
Click, clickclick, clack.
It only makes sense for something this pure to come from the heavens.
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