Posted in love, poetry


Dry  I was so used to feeling soggy, soaking wet underneath cascades of gray, shoes weighing my feet, filled with the water collected from my head to my toes that I couldn’t fathom another existence.  It rained everyday until it didn’t.   —Leanne Rebecca

The sun will come out tomorrow, and when it does, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

–Leanne Rebecca


Poetry and music.

2 thoughts on “Dry

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