I awoke last night, from a dream

Now forgotten, to the secret

Whisper of a gently falling rain

That seemed to pull me to the

Surface of conscience thought

Like a kiss from someone well

Loved who has finally made

It back home.

All else was quiet as I sat up in

The dark to listen, and shhhh

Said the rain as my feet touched

The floor, my bedroom a shadowscape

Of familiar silhouettes painted

More from memory than from sight

In the absence of moonbeam brushstrokes

On a palette of charcoal sky.

Reminded of a woman I knew, not

So very long ago, I stood up and

Walked over to my small window

To look outside, where she had danced

For me in the warm summer mist

Of a bygone day that is mid-August

Eternal now, there beneath a willow

Tree that still wept for her.

She danced no longer, and this had

Been a secret rain I looked upon

From parted curtains last night, my

Face pressed close to cold glass

To watch it fall, breath confirming

My existence with condensation

But little else save for an odd longing

I cannot account for, even now.

And shhhhh, said the rain to me…

Shhhhhh…

END

“Secret Rain”