I listen to the rain talk to the leaves. She tells a story of love and leaving (isnt that always the story? Isnt that always the punchline?) She tells it softly like someone who has recently lost something that cannot be replaced. She closes her eyes and remembers. The leaves quietly wait. They love in silence. They understand in the dark. And I too begin to understand. We are all part pouring rain, part fallen leaves. We are all part of the world, and we all have a story.
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About Emm Roy, The First Step
Emm Roy, The First Step.