The Rain Fellowship

The rain fellowship

The rain fell with such lightness,

Each droplet undeclared.

Oftentimes more mist than capsule.

Carried, like thoughts upon the whim of the gusting air.

Visible only against darkened brickworks, or in shadow corners.

Hardly an effort in condensation, the slightest voiles, seen at the seamless gaps instead.

A film laid imperceptibly upon the skin of my face.

Noticiable in the cooler feel as the vapour evaporates.

Caught in sadness, as I’ve a longing to feel the run of rain.

Yet not enough liquid to coalesce, rather a gentle silk suit, minute, weightless.

Enough only to draw upon the darkness of my mood, like a plaster to a deep thorn.

A parallel to the few words we’ve shared, running in a loop behind my eyes.

The achilleas archive of a fantasy fearful the perfect maybe only a mile away, but hey.

I drag my finger through the vanishing tsunami, an invisible graffiti, only I know existed.

Stillness’s in perspectives cover upon the dullest of day.

Dampened dandelion tendrils, delineated in its highlight, softer than that whispered rumour.

Refresher of the dryness drought of Julys dust janitor.

Cleansing only like tracing paper masks truth, detail in the squinted eye, holistically hampering with a greying opacity.

Framed by sentiment, harnessed by the objects only that lay upon the soil, slightly enlivening their colour with the merest nourishment.

A slivers song to the strangers sentence, marking the moments marginally only.

A modicum mantra to the yearning for answers. A distraction to the dyspraxia as movement manifests the momentum to motivate more than the morose fear of clumsinesses cover to discover.

Smother me gently in your ritualistic rumination wake up call.

Moisture mascaraed in morning mapping. Scantily scanning for more than memory, tempting the angels to precipitate in fellowship.

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