A Spell of Rain

Long hours pass away.

Where to, who can say?

A time of fear and hurt and pain.

Then, softly falls the rain.

First it comes like silver mist,

and by it my cheeks are kissed.

A spirit inside me wakes again,

to the softly falling rain.

A sheet of diamonds in clouds abides,

and falling, my tears they hide.

For you to call me inside is vain.

I answer only the softly falling rain.

The sheet turns into a wall,

as harder it begins to fall.

Thunder rumbles, repeated in a chain.

No longer is it softly falling rain.

Torrential, strong, and biting.

Against the wind, birds are fighting.

Trees are swaying and bending like a cane

in the fiercely falling rain.

A flash of lightning, burning bright,

cuts through an inky-coloured night.

Call me and deaf I will feign,

standing in angrily falling rain.

Take my arms and teach me to dance.

With the wind my soul with prance.

Singing along as the wind howls again.

I waltz in the stormy falling rain.

Waves crash, majestic against the shore.

but I am on earth no more.

Though I am soaked to the skin,

I fly in the cleansing, falling rain.

Giving me one last kiss,

it leaves lastly once more as mist,

decorating the flowers in the plain:

Bejewelled by the softly falling rain.

I return again to the ground,

where little lakes are near me found.

Splashing a few, I go inside again,

knowing I’ll return to the softly calling rain.