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Poem

In the hollows of my soul when it rains with leaden sadness,
And the clouds gather like grey jurors around me,
I weave an umbrella from the glimmer of a dimmed dream,
From that pure laughter, saved from under the tempest's sway.
When the rain wanders as tears over the inner stones,
I shelter my heart with a dance of merry flame,
With the memory of a first love, or the first spring,
And I turn each drop into a note of delicate symphony.
I let the drops of yearning fall into the outstretched palm of hope,
Which turns agonies into pearls that adorn me,
Making from every rain, a tapestry that weaves me stronger,
From joys fleeting, a curtain that guards against untold times.
And when the storm bellows as only the cold wind knows,
I respond with my umbrella woven from yesterday's smiles,
It breaks the waves, turning each thunder into a blessing,
There, beneath my multicolored shield, I hide and find myself.
In gusts growing fiercer, drawn with a bow across the curtain of the day,
I search the sky for a ray to warm me, to dry the clouds of sighs,
And wrapped in the mantle made from the fabric of "once was",
I no longer feel it dripping in me, I just feel new, illuminated spaces growing.
Each cloudburst in my heart now brings truths on wings of song,
Beneath my playful umbrella, joys become the armor I wear,
In the crackle of doubt, I catch the courage to laugh with the rain,
And I let myself be drenched by the miracle of life, for each rain washes, purifies, is reborn.

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