Weekend rain in Srilanka Live The rain to the wind said, You push and I’ll pelt.’ They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged–though not dead. I know how the flowers

The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”

“Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.”
“Poetry is just so emo.” he said. “Oh, the pain. The pain. It always rains. In my soul.”
“Love like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots keeping itself alive.
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This entry was published on November 16, 2013 at 5:47 am. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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