When the rain hits my face
All I can feel is the warmth
It may be cold in touch
Internally its warming, for it knows
Reflections cast shadows
Undulating through the light
Puddle shatters my reflection
Yet still, this image remains
Made out through the remaining core
This picture, myself, in a different form
Nothing done easy
Nothing done the straight way
Raindrops fall harder, so intense
Like little tsunamis in the puddle
My face remains, its reflecting
Your influence dear God of Thunder
Casting your downpour on me
I’m not melting; I’m breathing
Warm as can be
Mocking you with that very smirk
Maelstroms secretly build
Calculations never reside
For those processes are progresses
A life to be

Theodore Glendinning II
Copyright ©2008

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