1st draft #3


I wish I could be loved.
Like a dog
Or the words that stir up thoughts
Of a dusky, drowsy pink,
Puffed out near evening in the sky.
As white clouds tinge and blush
And the Summer sun goes down.

And then
Quite gently
In the dark,

As crowds disperse
And leave behind the weary and the dissolute,
It rains.

Cold and rythmic patterns.
The thickening of air.
And the sound of raining drops
That pound the street like feet.

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