Sometimes
the rain doesn't sound
like rain at all.
Sometimes
the rain sounds more like
a waterfall,
and its tears speak
of sorrows
your own voice cannot tell.
And the lark sings a song
your heart knows all too well.
One of pain.
One of longing.
One of being tucked in far away within
yourself.
You have no words for it
but you've found it--
its the sound
of the rain.
(I woke up with these simple words in my head.)
legal copyright for this poem March 20 2019/12:57PM
time/date stamped
and also for this writer/poet/author
Melissa A. Howells and also for this
legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World.
