Rain paris stories

tyberCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  3 months ago


by tyber

Your gaze drifts to the the window. The one framed by worn, soft, red curtains.

People run outside. A song slowly fills your ears, something that will always take you back to this moment.

Rain falls down on the cramped street outside, and you are warm. The people huddle closely together.

Wrapped in each other as they squeeze under the umbrella. You smile.

You will always miss this. Anytime it rains, or when you hear a similar song. You will think of the rain in Paris.

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tyberCommunity member
2 months ago

tyberCommunity member
2 months ago

benjSilver CommaStoryteller
a year ago
Do you look bland and ordinary?
stock photo model recruiting season is on

2 months agoReply
@bernardtwindwil thank you very much!!

bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
3 months agoReply
You are right. But, I will also remember the rain in Guadalajara, Bangkok, and Munich. But I can barely remember rain in my hometown. I was born and raised on a ranch in the high desert of California. Rain became magic for me. Christmas came more often than rain. Great poem!!!!!