Skinny knees and shoelaces
Patter through the wet
Hems, collars, bobby pins
Freezing hands that fret
Streams of water trickle
Swollen by the rain
A river rushes gladly
Pulsing like a vein.
The blood of sky continues
Some love the offered drops
Others sit foreboding at the gloomy weather spots
Playing, broody
Laughing, moody
Drip drop under shrieks
Goosebumps, spiky.
Warmth? Unlikely.
Not with all these leaks.
Poetry 