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I Write Poetry

He was the umbrella she found buried in her closet
When she heard the rain and thunder outside.
He knew how to keep her warm and dry
When she had to venture into stormy weather...
And she slowly began to learn to love rainstorms and find joy in jumping in puddles along the way
Because he taught her that even in chilly conditions she could always find warmth in his love.
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diablesse · 56-60, F
You managed to make umbrellas poetic.
Beautiful.
RedHotCrazyPerson · 31-35, F
Thank you ❤️