A Poem About Being Inside During Rain

I think there was too much of a pause between writing the first and second verse.
Maybe that pause broke the flow and led to the abrupt ending.

I feel like I’ve written a fragment of something longer here.
With time, maybe it could be acceptable.

Written at home.

Three warm flames slowly dance
Providing light in open space
Scented footsteps soon approach
And lead to presence in a room

Outside the rain roars and weeps
Inside its suggestion deafens
Air stays dry and moves slow
Hoping for a small reprieve

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
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