sitting at the bus stop, i see

the drops struggling to fill the

sidewalk with light brown marks

like a toddler struggling to color

within the lines.


clumsily, it pelts one drop

over another and the blank

spaces cry out to me

for validation.

“Shh”, I say: your turn will come.


for the sky is

a tad too sad today

and sadness makes one

see everything, hear everything:

even the aches resonating


from the bones of everyone

around them.

and ingested, this grief

pushes one to the breaking

point of a beautiful smile.


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