Sorrow Fell Like Nettled Tears
To the sound of pelting rain, I woke this early morning
Upon the tattered roof, it rhythmically pitter pattered
No sunlight peeked through clouds on daylight's dawning
I saw him in a dream and those that were shattered,
and of nights I'd spent without end, remorse spawning
Windblown rain pummeled windows. On sills it splashed
Obscured was my view, vision blurred behind each pane
Howled as does a wolf, thunder growled, lightning flashed
In rivulets like rain, was the weeping I struggled to restrain
Like blood dripping from a wound, as if my heart was slashed
That night, in shadowed lamplight I'd espied on the corner,
a familiar silhouette of one whose countenance was given
Green eyes stared at me, not with looks of a foreigner
No words were spoken as riven torrents of rain were driven
He was beyond the reach of this sad beseeching mourner
I ventured outside and into the sting of nettled showers
for just one more glimpse of him ~ that was my reason
On the street, scattered at my feet were wilted flowers
Fallacy, was an act Charlotte Bronte' would label 'treason'
Uncloaked and soaked, I stood with memories for hours
From grief I could not hide nor abide my mirrored face
His eyes were unveiled, and yet not one word did he speak
There were no spun silk threads, woven in warm embrace
He had raised no hand in farewell. A tear grazed my cheek
Without solace I would linger in portals of this empty place
I trembled, shivering and teary eyed. There was no mistaking
that sips from a tainted cup had the caustic taste of bitter gall
My impeccant knight chose as his right to claim this forsaking
Nimbus skies lay overcast without surcease of a graying pall
Fraught with an echoing ache I whispered, "My heart is breaking."
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