"Nobody said it was raining,"
A voice I heard on the wind.
Blowing through the trees
On the gentlest breeze:
Call of a long-parted friend.
"My tears are the sun when she's crying,"
It chanted in similar verse.
"She gives us all sight
With her radiant light:
Golden tears of her desolate curse."
"Who knew that the Heavens had feelings?"
It asked quite directly to me.
"That the stars high above
Returned all your love
And the moon glared down with envy?"
"Nobody said it was raining,"
The voice whispered as slowly it died.
I trudged sadly away
And still to this day
Wish that I would have replied.
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