Raindrops and Windows
The rain continues to fall against the semi-clean window, streaming down the glass like tears. The eyes, waiting for some one (or something), began to pace. Darting to and fro in the mass of heavy rain. Squinting, blinking, starting. All in redundant repetition. Sitting at a window sill watching the lifeless road as the clouds weep, bombarding the pavement with tangible sorrow. The scenery had never before matched the eye's inner feelings. As the window into the human soul stares, the window continues to cry.