Rain all over Xalapa
The softest sun behind the clouds
Wet and sleek
A carpet in my patio
Shimmering drops around
Talk of moss dreams
Made of clay that comes to life
The fresh smell of wet soil
Is a mixture of dark things
That once were alive
*
Made of clay that comes to life
The fresh smell of wet soil
Is a mixture of dark things
That once were alive
*
