The colors blend, like rainbows in the spring. With birds all around, who merrily sing.
But thunder strikes, and the birds fly away. The water flows faster, but the girl will just stay.
She sits on the sidewalk, drenched in rain. She’s been doing this for a while, and she wanted it again.
But it’s not that she’s crazy, but herself all the same. She’s a girl of nature, trying to be her own dame.
I know this girl, I know her feelings. Her heart is wet too, and it slowly is peeling.
I peer from her eyes, I am that girl. I know I would never shine, like a newly found pearl.
So think of me, when the next rain falls. I will be the one outside, who silently calls.
Rarity- Is like a flower that only blooms once a year Or letting go of that one single tear you’ve held for forever.
What’s rare or fair? Is it hard to bare or compare anything to that feeling you get when that person is there?
The emotion can also scare, but for now I shall care about the little moments that we dare.
Why do I declare these thoughts that ensnare me?
Because he is unaware of the flare that embers in my heart, not faltering about when or where.
All I know is that he said I am rare, and that to me is both a hope and a prayer.