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Poetry » Life » The Rain font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Joanna Johnson
Fiction Rated: K - English - Poetry/Poetry - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-19-07 - Updated: 01-19-07 - Complete - id:2306644

The Rain

The rain starts off slowly, like armies from the sky falling down to the earth to do combat, but before they could even draw their swords, they die because they run into trees, cars, people, and even the ground. As the rain falls down harder, more of these armies die and their blood forms huge round circles like rain drops that roll down your window.

The trees seem to grow taller every time it rains. Maybe the blood of these little armies tastes delightful to them so they send out their roots to devour it. Sadly this army of rain never wins because it always dies to help something else. Fore instance, we call the armies’ blood “water” and use it to nourish our bodies.

Fast and slow fall the rain like a lullaby trying to sing you to sleep. You always jump when the Lord of this army of rain sends a streak of light in the dreary and bleak sky or when he shows his because of all the little armies’ deaths. No matter how hard this Lord tries to destroy something by sending down more armies to the planet, the army always dies. So the Lord of the armies sends more lightning and displays his rage in the sound of beating drums.

As the rain picks up or slows down you drift off to sleep, dreaming of either fancy things or nothing at all. When the Lord of the armies has seen enough bloodshed, he stops sending his armies and slowly walks away. Then his brother, with an angelic face so bright that we dare not look at it directly for fear of going blind, shows his magnificent face full of sorrow for the little armies that his brother sent. His face pierces through the dreary and bleak sky to dry up the blood of the little armies and to give hope to his brother. As a memorial to all the brave armies of his brother, he places a beautiful rainbow in the sky that gives joy to his brother once again.

The rain stops and you wake up, yawning with satisfaction that you received your much needed rest. You wonder how you fell asleep in the first place, but you shrug the question off and continue to do whatever you have not done as the rain dries on your window pane.



© Copyright 2007 Joanna Johnson (FictionPress ID:552998).


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