It feels satisfaction in being a raindrop.
It lets others talk.
It releases regret like heat in a hot air balloon.
It uses anger only as a way to reproduce itself and survive.
It remembers.
It forgets.
It can hear the clock ticking while it slowly sips tea.
It is a boat on a storm-tossed sea...again.
It awakens.
It is the salmon who knows its way home.
It is the mother who has a change of clothes, a snack and a kiss for her child.
It is the father's protective embrace and the smell of him always there.
It finds itself in its description.
By: Sarah L. Garriott
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