Like the ink in my skin cannot be washed away and reminds me to root my dreams in reality
So the sound of falling rain was this morning only a dream
As I watered my garden calling and anticipating her comfort
The few drops earlier
Rooted the dream now falling loudly
Onto the roof of my house
In beautiful succession from the thunder...
Surely as my tattoo will not wash away
And the moon spends her last quarter
To become new so the rain will not stay away
And I will dream and let my dreams grow into reality...