Pieces

With rain streaking down the window panes,
I held my heart close.  Instinct tells me that's how you keep something dry.

  Time measured in numbers, sighs, and restless footsteps.  I asked a small girl what the wait was for?  She shrugged and ran away.

Lots of
pieces.

Not meaning to make sense, but all drowned in shades of black and grey.  These pieces wove themselves into days.

 I looked up. The sky was blue.