untouched glass.

How strange, to see the rain fall
Hear droplets scratch the ground
Whilst the glass remains untouched
The cascade, straight as lines
Drawn with thin lead tip
Smudged on crumpled concrete folds
The window, ever clear
Left to gaze
Imperfection’s neglect
Cresendo building
Slam, and bounce
The heavy smell of dampened earth
Drifitng through the open latch
Yet, still, dry
The glass calmly sits
Observing the rainfall.