"- By: Hone Tuwhare (via lost-rain)I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rainIf I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shutAnd I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blindthe something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the groundthe steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind dropsBut if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
youyou would still
"
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain.
(via a-lettertomydear)







