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When will the rain come?
Will I hear its soft tears
falling to pools of saving grace?
So still...
the air heavy with promise.
But promises have been broken.
Dust dry in mind and spirit.
Bleak brittle bones
plead for water's blessing.
Pour down on me.
Come, tears of grace and healing.
Come, quench this thirst
of the phoenix in me.
And when rain comes...
Pour down on me.
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Author Notes
Sometimes...after all is tried...prayer is all.
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LoannaLois
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