braille
braille rain
hanging in d r o p s on life’s line
for now
when
even the trout stream has gone
and no
no amount of a beautiful past
can compensate
this composite of memories
of childhood suns and moons
through the varying openings
of a window’s breadth
no
even the webs are brailled
with the bodies of flies
dust in the corners eyed
failing insight
into the true meaning of demise
when the sun burns it all away
and the lids shrivel
for no rain is
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