Warmth

| by Grace Stevens

Sitting here in the warmth of my room

I watch the rain fall outside my window

The violent dance the drops each take

All to meet their end on the ground

What beauty it is

A sky with no texture

Water tumbling down

And I am just a witness

No role do I play in this ritual

But for my eyes to be blessed

By a weeping world’s pain

And it’s sacred tears