On Rainy Afternoons
From nowhere,
a type of sadness descends
as that which sometimes possesses
a child on rainy afternoons
when what is vulnerable withdraws
and curls up in a corner
of the mind to seal
itself with silence.
It's a sadness that doesn’t
wear a name, more like a shadow
cast by something way back
that memory has forgot
or put away concealed
behind a veil of sleep.
It comes creeping
out of the quiet
and hangs as a blur
beyond the reach of sight,
a blank in the headlights
of a child’s far away stare,
without shape or form,
a sadness perhaps left
by a scar or the imprint
of a longing cast by a previous life,
or nothing, nothing more
than an ordinary sadness
that comes upon us all
on rainy afternoons,
when we are alone.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
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