A mist that moistens
but leaves no trace on the puddles
as you walk with umbrella in hand
unconcerned with the weather
Cars roll by,
tires making the familiar sound
that only rain can cause;
a swishing, swirling sound,
as tire separates from water
Thoughts as grey as the day,
thinking of past mistakes
and the lessons sorely learned,
leaving pain in their wake
A friend in need,
with nowhere to turn,
troubles me as i cannot help,
for all my care and concern
Sadly laughable;
physician heal thyself,
motes from eyes
and face turned towards the sky
in the supplication of desperation
The things we do
and the things we can't,
the times we rave and rant
This is the season of our discontent,
the time you have lost,
the tears you have spent
Yet, still you keep searching
for the vent
for the air has become stale...
12-4-12
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