The rain falls...
As I write,
the rain falls.
And as I sit here, considering the words that would represent
my feelings within,
the rain falls,
unaware of the world which goes on beneath it, around it,
and in between its laggard drops.
The patrons pass, and talk, or walk on by.
some read, some write -
some such as I -
while others still watch some read, some write
and some such as I.
and the rain falls,
gracelessly. And the wind blows,
the rain shows
its lack of care.
And the wind screams,
and the rain comes in streams
while patrons rush across
a pavement that gleams.
And they pass, and talk, or walk on by.
A clerk washes a window,
and a girl takes off
her rain-drenched coat,
and a young man stands out in the rain.
He lights a cigarette.
He feels no pain.
And the patrons walk, and talk, or pass on by...
The soft blues lumber through the room -
dancing under the rain-pelted roof -
telling the story of each patron
as he sits, as they talk,
as she dances in the rain
in her rain-drenched coat,
and as he drags on his cigarette,
wondering what went wrong.
And the blues play on
joining their conversations,
sharing their loneliness,
enjoying their friendships,
and dancing with them in the rain that falls...
...the rain that is unaware of the life that races on
beneath it, around it, between its laggard drops
and that dances in its midst.
And as I write,
As I sit here considering the words that
the blues so readily understand,
the rain falls,
a young man drags on his cigarette,
the blues play on,
and a girl dances in the rain...
- end -
- February 22, 2006
the rain falls.
And as I sit here, considering the words that would represent
my feelings within,
the rain falls,
unaware of the world which goes on beneath it, around it,
and in between its laggard drops.
The patrons pass, and talk, or walk on by.
some read, some write -
some such as I -
while others still watch some read, some write
and some such as I.
and the rain falls,
gracelessly. And the wind blows,
the rain shows
its lack of care.
And the wind screams,
and the rain comes in streams
while patrons rush across
a pavement that gleams.
And they pass, and talk, or walk on by.
A clerk washes a window,
and a girl takes off
her rain-drenched coat,
and a young man stands out in the rain.
He lights a cigarette.
He feels no pain.
And the patrons walk, and talk, or pass on by...
The soft blues lumber through the room -
dancing under the rain-pelted roof -
telling the story of each patron
as he sits, as they talk,
as she dances in the rain
in her rain-drenched coat,
and as he drags on his cigarette,
wondering what went wrong.
And the blues play on
joining their conversations,
sharing their loneliness,
enjoying their friendships,
and dancing with them in the rain that falls...
...the rain that is unaware of the life that races on
beneath it, around it, between its laggard drops
and that dances in its midst.
And as I write,
As I sit here considering the words that
the blues so readily understand,
the rain falls,
a young man drags on his cigarette,
the blues play on,
and a girl dances in the rain...
- end -
- February 22, 2006




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