Sadness collects at my feet like puddles,
caught in the street drains with twigs and mud,
they mix and mingle and share hard time stories:
"I'm what's been keeping you awake at night,"
"I'm that burning regret," "I'm that awful sigh,"
"I am the mud that packs in the soil."
Caught in the rain, street people dance;
Mother Nature's Free Detox,
and like a bunch of recovering addicts free,
We sing and wash away the mournful stares,
and Swim in the wind=swept bath.
The rain is just cold enough to remind us of snow,
Just warm enough to rouse memories of Spring.
But it's not the seasons worth smiling about,
you were lucky to be caught in the rain.