Ode to Rain

It’s on rainfall days,

fog rolls in

hills of mist rise

faint droplets graze skin,

sky tears drip

onto moonlit ruins

of forgotten days.

It’s on rainfall days,

the rush of life

seems to rush by

Silent; for thunder now sings

a song haunting.

Ghosts peer

between bolts of light

and starry nights

searching for

those sun-kissed days.

It’s on rainfall days,

clouds soak heavy

clearing echoes

of mellow shores.

Time stands Still,

clocks fade

darkness descends over

ivory fields

where dream walkers reign.

It’s on rainfall days,

each weighed by the

weight of the falling sky,

gazes graze grey

pearls shine in the eyes

Time shifts

and the rain now falls

over

old lives and old selves

cracked souls

shelved between aging minds.

It’s on rainfall days,

that water blooms

flowering seeds of

salted and fallen and lost

Memory.