Rain Cloud

A short poem written when i was 17.

I

Two hollow knocks on dark stained wood,
Is all there is to hope for.
Leaning against the wall, like he always stood
Hands in pockets, face concealed by a hood
Smiling as I open the door.
Over his shoulder lies the past life he led,
Clouds darkened awaiting rain.
A Prayer for the light that lays ahead,
Illuminating a path for his boots to tread
Of choices not made in vain.
In his hand the key to a door long closed
Behind which lies the unknown.
His journey's end cannot be but supposed,
A life upon which we cannot impose
The seeds have yet been sown.

II

But with the knock comes what I fear to find,
As he crawls back to the cloudy years.
And slumped in a cell, devoid of time
Eyes darkly sunken and dead as if blind
Is what I see when the rain cloud clears.