The Storm

I'm so out of touch.
Amusing myself with words.
They run
through my outstretched hands.

The moon smiles silver.
Enough to inspire-
enough to melt
a frozen heart in winter.

A sudden rain trips,
falls on my paper.
Blurring my words,
mixing my thoughts.

Make the storm last forever,
weights drift
off my shoulders,
and into the unkown.

Introversion does not suit me,
yet extroversion belittles my senses
And as I turn to the crowd I came from;
the crowd merely goes elsewhere.