Poem Hunter
SO (USA / )


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.

User Rating: 3,1 / 5 ( 5 votes ) 3

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