The Sweet November Rain

Describing a thought I had the other day.

The sweet November rain:
Lightning forks through the overcast
Sky and droplets fall into a velvet curtain.

And how like a strange stage it unveils:
Trotting down the lane
Many years later, murmuring a silent curse

At the droplets that plaster hair
To skull. One hand stupidly
Raised over like a shrunken umbrella.

Rain used to be fun: a game, a therapy,
Counting the countless rhythms that pulsate
Into one. An entire life unto itself.

And now, The sweet November rain
With lightning forks and velvet curtains
Fall and fades. Fall and fades.