The Swerve

An Umbrella by Cindy Z., 605

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An Umbrella

Pitter patter
Drip drop
The singing of the rain
A poisonous song.

My hair’s a total mess
And oh, was I cold
Standing in the rain.

People went by
With umbrellas.
Cars went slish and slosh
A trail of rain singing in its wake

But suddenly
As if the sun came through
But really, it didn’t
The rain stopped.

And foolish old me
Thought it as magic
Until a small kind voice aroused

A kind one, indeed—
“Hello.”

One umbrella can do so much.

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