The Touch of the Rain
I walked in a gossamer springtime rain,
As much of a mist as a drizzle.
The sky was gray and the sun had set
But my heart, it was lit like the day.
The bark of the tree, it was glistening dark,
And its branches were flung to the sky as it prayed.
The rain of the spring, it was gentling the tree,
That was waiting for warmth for its buds to spring free.
I'd stepped from the schoolhouse and into the street,
And the air, it was chill as I bundled myself.
But the touch of the rain, it was gentle and sweet,
Like the lips of a lover, in tenderness met.
There's grief for the ones that we loved, who are gone,
There's sorrow we carry for things left undone,
There are tensions and worries we all have to bear,
But then there's the kiss of the rain in the spring.
I walked in the fine, thin springtime rain,
And all of the worry and sorrow I'd borne
Was lifted away by the touch of the rain,
And just for a moment, the grief.
I'd worked through the day in the school till the eve,
And my being was worn to a frazzle.
But that touch of the rain, like the grace to a soul
Of a sinner, was granted today.
2014 April 4th, Fri, 8:45 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
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Recent posts related to spring: Signs of Spring (March 30), We Call for Spring (March 9)
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