There is something that brings out the melancholy when it rainsIn the sheets of blinding rain I see faces, of people loved and lost.

Pouring onto my window pane, questioning, thundering, complaining, how life flowed along like an ebullient little river, without them.

Wasted sinuous streams find their way to the gutters, gushing out of sight like the trips and plans that never materialised.

Pregnant, voluptuous waves crashing onto the shores, frothing, seething, venting a nameless rage.

Blinding lightning stokes unknown fires buried deep in the dark shadowy recesses of my heart.

The pitter patter on the porch through the night, competing with the ticking clock on the mantel, a constant reminder of the never ending race against time.

Tick tock. Tick tock.Tick tock.

But then the next morning a cool breeze hits my face, the clouds turn white, the slight drizzle is like a warm embrace.

I breathe deep and fill my lungs with a beautiful, bright day,

Oh I know you’re there, rumbling in the distance, but you’re still some miles away.