2004 A rainy Day in Powell, OH

2004 A Rainy Day in Powell, Ohio

Flo Freeman

As my eyes open and I slowly sit up, 

my room is immersed with gloomy grays 

angry growls from the sky, and sad distressed 

raindrops falling upon my windowsill.

I don’t like rainy days much. 

I hear the screams of my parents

bickering back and forth with 

bold cracks of thunder playing 

an aggressive tune in the background. 

I don’t like rainy days much. 

And when I have to take out the trash

and I’m not wearing any shoes. I have

to pitter patter my way to the can as fast as 

possible so my tippy toes don’t freeze off. 

I don’t like rainy days much.  

10 years later as my eyes open and I

blissfully sit up, my room is captivated 

with tranquil transparency, peaceful aqua, 

and a reviving drizzle upon my windowsill. 

I never used to like rainy days much. 

I hear the whisper of “I love you” while your

whiskers tickle my cheek with harmonious 

downfall playing an elegant melody in the 

background. 

I never used to like rainy days much. 

And when it comes time to take out the trash,

we do it together. Not wearing any shoes we

dance and kiss in the rain making time

rather insignificant compared to our bliss. 

Now that I think of it rainy days just might be my favorite 

          if that means they’re spent with you.