The rain covers streaking tears,
Mutes the stranger’s happy cheers,
Drowns the moods of passerby
So everyone seems to cry.

The rain makes music that moans
Just a rhythm without tones,
No melody that you’ll hum
A dirge that is never done.

The rain runs downward flowing,
Collects in gutters growing
To pour down drains and away,
Pulling color from the day.

The rain drives the walker home,
Wet and chilled through to the bone,
To drip on well worn carpet,
And shiver there cold and wet.

The rain rattles the window,
The walker dries in shadow,
Lights stays dark despite the gray,
There’s no reason dark can’t stay.

The rain turns the body cold,
Like time gone and growing old,
Accumulation of pain
Brought back by the winter rain.