It rained every day
after you left
a natural mourning ensued
accompanied by stillness
the eerie quiet that often precedes
a natural disaster.
Things that once brought me joy
wash away each afternoon
Rivulets of pain wash my senses
a canopy of clouds
hover like a conspirators plotting my misery
Eagerly I give myself over to sadness
Finding empathy in the rainy afternoon
It seem both the days and I have cause to grieve
at the loss of a loved one.
Karen Touzalin
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-rained-every-afternoon/
