Sitting on a raindrop I wonder...
Wondering what ever to do?
Falling and pouring my heart on the dew.
Silently lying in a drop of some ocean,
Breathing and dimming by night.
Morning may soon come they whisper.
Never tight are the boundaries of this pure imagination.
Built and conquered through stagnant breath.
Each grimacing smile,
Tongues lick kind words forged like fire, heavy on my chest.
A language deeply felt and heard with no understanding.
Sitting on this raindrop, comfortable with no direction.
This complexion of tales, this thick woven skin.
Clinging on with wet hands, slipping.
The thinnest of grips...managing, hoping this raindrop will one day begin landing.