What it is to Taste the Rain

A sonnet-esk piece with a melancholic wistfulness.

The willow leaves wept, swirling in the wind
The grass in the fields, dead and cold were gray
They waved and wondered, all lost and alone
And it was here in her sorrow she lay

She pondered the sky and counted the stars
The ocean waves weeping in the distance
Sweet words of the past whispered on the breeze
Lifeless and bleak; a sordid existence

Red touches of memory burned on her skin
Fiery eyes loomed bright out of the dark
Love and excitement, remembrance of joy
But like ghosts all fade away at the lark

And the pale clouds overhead opened up
Blue drops, like heaven's sorrow deluged down
The ghosts abandoned the girl in the grass
Each blade arrayed 'bout her head like a crown

Delight, passion- come to pass, leaving pain
Abandon- what it is to taste the rain