Sounds

The pat, pat, pat,
Of falling rain,
A radio's quiet reflection,
A small scared dog,
Wet, wanting to come in.

The sounds are woven
Within my life,
Like an old hemp rope,
With each strand frayed,
To sound my existence.

A chorus of strings,
Echoes from the past.
The gusting wind,
Of dual reality,
The rushing sounds,
Of love and fate.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (3)

wonderful assonance, gentle word soundings of a rainy day. really, this should be read aloud for its full impact on the soul. Blessings and best wishes, ~richard
This is a 10 and it is pleasing to the ear, too. H
A nice quiet poem concerned with sound, very well done sandra short poems can say more then long poems, with more power Regards AJS