Renaissance
No Rain, had to settle for the shower,To let those all-knowing drops fall.The cold water dripping off my hair, my lashes and quivering fingertips.Yet the warmth of my damp cheeks and burning eyes.Cleansed. Inside out.Water, like Holy Water,Washes away the dirt of the past,Within, without.I stood there trembling,The thud of them blessed drops against the bathroom floorKeeping my frantic sniffs and sobs from the world outside.A while later,I dried myself with a white towel,And wrapped in a bathrobe,A worn out one of purple hue,But within a new human,Starting afresh, breathing anew