A poem about rainy days.
The clouds, a mantle about the day,
grey, they lower their darkling cloak
down upon the shadowed morning,
wring the water from their clothes,
drape the drizzle around our souls,
send the dampness ever creeping,
stealing heat from skin uncovered,
seeping into flesh and bone.
So the daylight, shaded, shuttered,
fails to paint the sodden scene,
leaves the world to gloomy colours
filtered through the bars of rain;
watery light in hues deflected
spreads a dark and dismal pall
on the streams and growing pools,
filling with the ceaseless fall.
Now the whispers of the raindrops,
a thousand kisses to the leaves,
gather in a dripping chorus,
fill the air with soothing song,
tapping at the watching windows,
rings the rhythm of the rain,
reminds us of our sheltered state,
speaks of snuggling blankets deep.
Rainy days may bring depression,
leave us longing for the sun,
turn our thoughts to tropic beaches,
make us wish for desert climes;
yet in fairness let’s remember
times of comfort in the darkness,
the lullaby of pattering panes
soothes to sleep in the hand of rain.
Line count: 32
Trochaic tetrameter unrhymed
For Monthly Poetry Contest, August 2021
Prompt: Rainy Days.