Against the glistening canvas,
behind the branches and leaves
where we shared our lips' whispers,
I found tonight a wreath of rain,
an alphabet of springtime lights
painting your name.
In each drop I see a burning candle,
a spell upon my yearning soul
the dream I do not like to return from
smitten with feelings I can't control.
Leaves, small lyres with no strings
play and sing their crystal tunes
on the land, mannaz, engraved runes
and genuine magic of raindrop rings.
Pictures and words and sounds arise
between the skies and the wet ground,
and I... I just wonder if it rains in paradise.














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