Rain
Rain
This fog, this mist, this evening’s shadow
Is quiet, desolate and still;
But eyes peer forth to starlit places
To watch the falling rain
That seems so ghostly cold
Tranquil abide these moments in time
When silent is the patter of the rain,
And blessed remains a solitary voice
As it’s mystery fades away
Desire held tight our lost intent
To warm the mountains crests,
Yet distant thought of distant lands
Are sacrificed to the sound of the rain
Whisper the worth of our own serenity,
And hold tight imaginations fate,
While hope and wisdom are momentary
Condemned to the quiet rain
Frail the silent darkness dies
But still the raindrops fall;
And how mysterious our future stays
Uncertain, unknown, unfelt
In the cold, descending rain
By M. Norton
marklnorton@shaw.ca
Copyright © Mark Norton | Year Posted 2011
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