Friday, 9 September 2016

Rain Steps.

butterfly match

The rain stepped back, softly – she had become a stranger.

Turning back the freshly laundered sheets as if she looked to see who was sleeping there.

Only the rustle of their parting gave her away.

It was still dark

Her footsteps would have remained unnoticed if it hadn’t been for the thankful pop of the seeds at midnight.


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