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by Ronae Redwine


Many people claim to love a storm Introverts crawl into their heads Romantics kiss, poets write Musicians compose But after the storm when the color has run from the trees and the sky and onto the concrete I am dragged outside Through ankle deep puddles The sky pools at my feet like a watercoloring painting Olive green of the trees Mingle with the dusty blue of the damp sky Streetlights shine an iridescent orange Reflected in pools of water Colors spill out but never go muddy like they would under an artist’s brush

That is when he drags me Outside shivering and sleepy The benches are too wet for sitting To stand and soak our toes In the colors of the earth and the sky

“Watercolored” by Stephen Iverson

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