In the aftermath of rain I stop to observe

In the aftermath of rain, I stop to observe,

a puddle like glass, where reflections curve.

Oil paints the surface, with colors that bleed,

showing the world in a way that I need.

Swirling distortions, a dance in the light,

twisted perspectives that twist out of sight.

Each glance holds a secret, a moment to claim,

a fragile reminder of what’s lost in the game.