I woke that morning to the sound of life
outside my window, the sheets falling at my movement
as I rush to peer out the glass, listening to a sound I most love;
the only sound to make me forgo the land of dream
so not to miss the sheer beauty of the storm. Abandoning the warm comfort
of my bed, I listen to the rain as my cheek stains from another tear.
Funny how something small like a tear
begins our journey into this strange thing called life,
only to be stilled by our mother’s gentle touch. The soft comfort
of her voice, tuned to the rhythmic movement
of her breath as she sings. Mother once looked at me as her dream
to the beginning of a future filled with love.
As I grew, I wondered at this dream of love,
how such a thing brought both happiness and many a sorrowed tear.
Why does the sky always darken when misery steals our dream
instead of washing away the past for a happy life
to begin? If only I had known that in just one movement
my once sweet rain would turn. It stole away my comfort.
I had found him, loved him, and I became his comfort
from loneliness. But I could not return his love.
My trust betrayed too early on, his eyes watching my every movement
as I played his game. Afterwards, I still could taste the salt of each tear
as I thought about my lost chance for a new life.
He asked for so little in exchange to grant me my dream.
In the next room calls what remained of another dream,
the tiny wails crying out to me. I too needed another’s comfort.
I left my window for the tiny being who now had power over my life.
So small, yet helpless without me to care for her, love
her. I take my precious one from her bed to dry away her every tear,
softly swaying, knowing she would be soothed by the movement.
I see her father reflected back in her every movement
as I remember his endless talk of our dream,
always smiling to banish the angriest tear.
I look once more out to the rain, desperate to find in it comfort.
Soon gray skies would part for sun to shine on colors people love
to welcome nature with new life.
I wish the rain would bring me new life, the gentle movement
of the drops recalling memories of summer love and a once beautiful dream.
Now the falling rain, once my only comfort, only conceals each and every tear.
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