Poem, written in the rain

It was only a light sprinkle, ne?

The Passerby I knew

Perchance that I may hold you in my arms

once more, a vivid springtime's sweet embrace.

A memory of smiling ruby lips

to press against mine own and whisper soft

and beautiful words against mine tender ears.

What winter chill has blown in from the west?

A greater frost hath not befallen me,

nor more enfeebling cold hath filled mine heart

than long lost absence of your dear departing

form, a scattered trail of footprints in the snow.

But clouds, so long apart collide again,

and break the day to music in mine ears:

A laugh, so short and liken to the call

of morning birds a memory unleashed.

and followed by an image of your face,

sweet tears of joy like stars upon on your eyes.