Rain

Today, my heart laments the absent rain;
how Mother Nature's gray melancholy
pours Her tears, dampening my windowpane,
feathering Her sodden touch upon me.

The rain endures smirks and staunch rejections,
but She rebels by drenching sheltered heads.
Her April showers can bloom reflections;
drive those with old afflictions to their beds.

If the rain's fate rested in human hands,
then surely Her downpours just might suffer;
indeed, rain's water might not quench the lands.
Such doom would befall my sorrow's buffer.

While rain is wished to come another day,
Before She's gone, for Her return I pray.


Sonnet