I wrote a song today. It took shape as a woman walked by.
She sang "Is it still gonna rain"
And repeat.
The rain came about 4 o' clock.
The smell came 'round and let us out.
I ran with wet guitar inside
The green bugs crawled all over me
from the dill plants I intend to use for pickling
It dawned on me....
You aren't coming home today.
I set down the mail
And put down my keys
Watered your housplants and sat down for this
I sit here with wrists and muscles aching for soft things
I cradled my self like cartons of fragile eggs today
I needed to be soft
I need to hold on
Today is my beginning
Today is my song.
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