Green, Rainy Winter

Drops of rain dripping from the eaves
making an infernal noise like broken drums
banged stubbornly by a naughty child.
The dreams fly like a flock of frightened birds,
it remains just the cold biting the hand
that holds a cigarette which she forgot to smoke.
She’s tired of so much rain
and hates this noisy silence after,
that breaks its echo in her innards.
A thunder is heard in the distance,
ransacking, dormant, until now, anxieties.
Under the skin, her flesh turned
into the hot sand of a desert, haunted by storms.
The sky is red and to the lightnings’ light
the lush green of this winter seems an insult
to the dryness of her heart.

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