How did you spot me, way down here,
alone with my vague imprints and half-buried in the muck?
Why did you choose to stop,
your t-shirt already soaked through,
and bend over to brush my bruises,
and take me home with you?
I can’t imagine this being a source of pride;
these wounds carved in my underside,
and yet, here I am,
alone with you,
warm and out of the rain.
Fossils In The Rain
