its not a window

between this dreary english garden plot and me, a drop of rain remains.
therein lies the whole ocean contained, unconstrained by land, or plans.
relieves the straightedge bricks of pain, comforting like tears, and there again
the salty sea shows itself. the dolphin leaps and laughs with glee, to be
in that infinite ocean, that garden, that windowpane. all i need is there
in one remaining drop of rain, to Be


a prompt on a picture. they wanted a prose story, but this is what came out.


2 thoughts on “its not a window

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