RainThe rain was soothing, calm and serene.
A pitter-pattering rhythm, a melody, a song
that only they could hear.
But now it all just felt so wrong.
Yes, rain was there, through the years.
Every moment of joy, but never the tears.
Yet it was there, when the moon cried.
For rain could change in the blink of an eye.
It was warm and welcoming at first.
But soaked to the bone,
Standing in drenched clothes,
One only grew bitter and cold.
And the blue, blue sky, once as clear as crystal
Changed as soon as the rain came
A light drizzle was far from frightening,
But that was before the thunder and lightning.
The rain could be a maelstrom,
Of lashing out, fire, fury and rage
Or it could be a scathing, cruel coldness,
Of virulent and astringent frost.
So if instead of water, was gasoline and benzene
They’d set fire to that rain
And watch the whole world burn down in flames
A testament to their pain.
And whilst the rain often darkened the day,
Turning the sky a murky, monochromatic grey
It was there from the start, and held a special place in their heart.
Without it, life would never truly be the same.