The Path Of Rain
A shower of relief falls on me,
by Cheré Mason
The hair on my face clings to my cheeks,
Running the black course of wet paths
Down to my still trembling lips.
Then further down they tumble,
Rolling down the curve of my neck,
Until they reach the dampness of my shirt,
Where they are absorbed into the whole,
And reach the gripping points of your finger tips.
Where you hold on tightly
Refusing to let go.