Rainsong
The day is melancholy grey
Bathed in swirling
Haunting mists
That sift like shadows
Through the trees
Sighing as they play
The clouds hang heavy
With a sadness that echoes
A sorrowful song
Winding out
Across the quiet sky
The rain begins its beating
Softly drumming
Like the helpless trembling
Of a lonely heart
Falling softly
A ceaseless sobbing
Cool tears flowing
Into the rushing river
Of waiting time
© Ann Bagnall
Beautiful.
LikeLike
Thanks! You can probably guess that it’s raining here today!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know all about rain. Rains here nearly everyday
Hope the sun shines soon. 😊
LikeLike
Moving towards winter here in Oz and Easter is often rainy for the entire holiday break. Good for poets however! Have written 16 new poems this week – a record for me, so there will be a little extra posted soon!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful, as they say
““The rain to the wind said,
You push and I’ll pelt.’
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged–though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.”
LikeLike
Robert Frost! One of my favourite poets of all time! Lovely!
LikeLike