u/WildHoneyStatic_4224

Ruhum..t, the wipers sing their soft refrain,

a lullaby in arcs across the glass,

where tiny drops arrive, then slip to rain,

too full of light and longing not to pass.

The road below reflects a silver sky,

grey-blue and dusted, tender in its hue,

while spring green wakes and evergreens reply,

their colors deepened by the falling dew.

Each ripple bends the light with quiet grace,

intention written in each trembling ring,

the world made softer in this fleeting space,

as if the rain remembers everything.

The car hums low beneath my steady feet,

and in this hush, my presence feels complete.

Capricious

the way I sit close,

close enough to feel your heat,

not enough to be claimed anymore.

You laugh,

and I let mine follow

a breath late,

just to draw you in again.

My fingers circle the table,

not your hand...

yet.

and you watch

like I might change my mind.

I might.

Your knee brushes mine.

This time, I let it stay.

Capricious isn’t confusion

it’s tantalizing, delicious control.

I give you just enough

a glance that lingers,

a smile that knows

until the space between us

feels thinner than it should.

And when I lean back,

slow, deliberate...

you’re still there,

wanting more

than I’ve given.

I want more.

A pickle in a cup in a sneaker sneaker sat,

Sipping brine on the hood of a car just like the silly fluffy cat.

Laces tied in philosophical loops,

Muttering softly about boops within hoops.

The cup said, “Honestly, this feels absurd,”

The sneaker replied, “I prefer not be heard.”

But the pickle just wiggled, delightfully green,

Declaring, “This is the best place I’ve ever seen.”

A sock rolled by full of whispers and grins,

“Careful,” it said, “that’s how weirdness begins.”