It’s cold, it’s silent, it’s dark
I’m sitting alone beside a warm fire
Watching people in coats pass by my window
Faces filled with a lack of desire
It’s warm inside
I shudder as a shiver passes through my body when someone walks in
I look up to see who it is
It’s a pale man, dressed in green
I invite him to fire
He politely declines and sits on a chair not far away
I study him, he’s different
He’s special if I may
Unlike others he doesn’t look quite monotone
He’s quite bright, like the fire I’m sitting next to
He burly, made of more than just skin and bone
He is like a candle in the darkness, something new
I study him a bit closer
He dresses well, with a fiery red suit laced with green flames
He walks over to the bar
Asking for the bartender’s name
He’s different
He’s not pale, or dull
He not drunk, or spent
He’s warm, yet cold
He’s one, but many people at the same time
He has variety, he has shape
He has the body language of a mime
Easy to understand, difficult to comprehend
And as he left I finally knew who he was
The fire roared to life, the rain increased its downpour
He was the falling rain.
Oh how beautifully you write! ❤
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