If I was the rain
I would be wary of friends like me,
one of those fair weather friends
that curse my unexpected arrival on inopportune days
but cajoled and then praised when I come when needed.
Is it wrong for me to feel used
when I am welcomed in the one and shunned in the next?
At sad times I'm told I contribute to the pain,
but then, a work of wonder as I meander on the window
or a tympany of pitter-patter on the roof.
I would just want to be me, alone and blue
if I was the rain...