Rain
He walked, as the sky darkened,
And the first drop fell,
More and more followed, grey and multicoloured all at once,
Soon silvery sheets cascaded from the inky sky.
And he walked, all the while, calmly on the street,
As they hurried past, with umbrellas in hand,
Cursing this miracle, frowning at this wonder.
What beauty this sight held, he thought!
But they were blind, those umbrella-holding ones,
Every single one of them,
And the sound of it, thundering horse hooves!
Or perhaps fingers tapping at a window,
Drumming, whispering, clapping,
But they were deaf, those umbrella-holding ones,
Every single one of them.
Soon it ceased.
And all that was left of it were puddles on the street,
Or a soaked umbrella.
But perhaps he had been the only one to feel it, to hear it, to see it,
The only one who would remember,
This glorious miracle, this beautiful rain.
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