It is Wednesday.

As I sit I try to find the biggest rain drop yet,

Cars fly by in slow motion, only to splash in puddles.

The day smells new, it is just beginning.

She has a secret and she put it in the old man’s pocket.

Finger nails grow, turn old as well, turn into dust.

See months disappear before we see change.

She hands me a beer.

It is Wednesday.