TEARS IN THE RAIN
When the winds of time come rustling like a childs little fingers curled tapping at the door
Those gentle memories come nibbling at our core.
When we are busy and our mind is swiftly pondering this and that
Those memories are tossed back like a sailor adjusts his hat
Oh, but when the air is still and the gentle rain taps at the roof above
We recall those lost to death, those that we so dearly loved.
Their smiles or words tossed about within memories, like flying leaves carried on the autumns wind.
And though in that rainy quiet our humble strength wares thin as the tears come falling, just like the rain.
And then we wait till we feel brave again, just like after the rain, till the clouds break way, the sun shines once again.
Linda Bates Terrell
May 19, 2017
This poem is for Mom and Dad that I still think of so often, as some others too.