(Photograph mine)

Among the natural disasters
There is not one that stands more plain
But which upsets the soul more deeply
Than does the melancholy rain.

Its torrents in the sleepless night-time
Its drizzle in the afternoon
Consumes alike the knight, the jester,
The medic and the banker soon
Will too bow to its lull.

And even you cannot withstand it
Instead, you try to comprehend it
Allowing it to pelt away
The joy, the grief, the years, the gray.

Then recognition floods your senses
But just as rapidly, there’s none
For just a second, there, you felt it
You tried to grasp it, but it’s gone.

The stars, like rain, begin to fall
The steeple bells do sound their toll
You know too well this painful feeling
And deep inside, you are so willing…
But you can’t hear the call.