The Land of Poppies

I awoke to an April morning of misty ground and crying skies.
The rain always brings me back, like the an upturned box of moments.
It brings me back to the day I first learned to spell my name;
back to the time I realized how beautiful a story can sound out loud;
back to the moment I left the land of poppies.
back to the hour I felt the slope of a friend's grave.
back to the night I danced with my sister, until my toes could sustain me no longer.

What does rain bring back, for you?

© 2011 by Rachel Lowry. All rights Reserved. {photo via}

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