Rain of the Soul

Written in response to a friend saying my poems aren't "descriptive enough."

Rain of the Soul

Don't do it, I thought
Why do you have to do that? Why?
I questioned, as I watched
the drop drip down and die.

My window streaked
with the last moments of their lives.
I watched,
and mourned,
the death of each one
as if it were my own.

Maybe it was,
and maybe it wasn't.
Poor things.
I bet they thought that no one cares…
like me.
But that's the difference between us,
the Raindrops and I;
for they will be reborn as Dew,
while I'll just die.

Then I realized that I felt the presence
of just one.
One that somehow snuck past
that gateway between our worlds,
made only of glass.

As I looked in the mirror,
I realized I could see
that one had snuck in...
and attached itself to me.

Why me? Am I worthy of your grace?
Do you deserve to wither and die
on such a lonely face?
No. I decided
and went to wipe it away,
only to realize
I wanted it to stay.