Rain

When I hear the pitter-patter

on the roof after a long sunny day, I

think. I think about what it must be like

to be a raindrop, or even just a molecule

of water. To be able to go anywhere, or would

you just stay inthe same place but in different

forms.

These are the  things that I wonder

before it's washed away.

This poem is about: 
Me

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