Requiem for a Thought

Sometimes, in the evening, when the rain comes in,

I like to watch it. I like to feel its coolness,

Sitting on my porch, Alone.

Although, I suppose I’m not really all that Alone.

I do have the rain—memories floating inside me,

Pouring forth, eternal, ephemeral.

And the dark woods, too.

So no, I suppose, I’m not really alone.

Still, I like to think that I am.

I like to think that it is just me out on my porch,

Watching the rain—watching the water fall, Alone,

Drop by drop by drop,

Onto my wood porch.

And when it’s over, I like to go back in.

But maybe I shouldn’t;

There’s so much more raining left to do.