Song Of The Rain

Slow dancing with my shadow

On the moonlit boulevard,

Tap-dancing shoes a clamor of

Foreign dreams that whisper of rain

As the city of Atlantis still slumbers

Beneath the velveteen crush of the Oriental

Rug.

And the rain dances from the

Heavens like puppets severed from

Their strings, the silver curtain

Of the rain are the latent shadows

Of words left unspoken.

Raindrops linger on lashes

Spun of gossamer threads of sunlight,

Their daydream fluttering the wings

Of multihued butterflies whose

Wings dry far too fast, and they threaten to fly away

And leave me, a broken winged bird, at once

Yearning for the sky, and yet afraid.

Do the stars weep for those who cannot?

And do their gossamer tears light a path

For lonesome hearts to fly upon?

A mere shadow in rain will vanish, mute.

A speechless and awry castaway am I,

Left to shout voiceless into the breathless void of the

Wind, challenging in the Tempest with the fires

That burn sullenly within my eyes.

You are the sunlight to my shadow.

Eyes the color of sun-stippled forest loam,

And aching familiarity, like warm flannel sheets

Fresh from the dryer. You are a Siren that graces

Us foolish mortals with a whisper of your presence.

Your sunlight seeps into every hidden crevice of my soul,

And you make me fly…fly.

I’ll never be the same.

You’ve led me from the

Dark tangle of the jungle and into Paradise.

To be with you is to be granted a vision of angels.

And every time it rains I hear your voice.

And every time it rains are the angels crying.

And every time it rains I feel you holding me.