pray for rain

I’ve heard that you’ve been dancing.
I used to watch the careful placement
of your feet,
moving one to another,
swaying to the music we used to make together
and then
the music inside your head.
Music of a tone or depth I cannot hear
or understand.

I can’t see you now.
The fog has returned, as it did many years ago
carrying the whispers on the wind
far away from my waiting ears
away from my careful hands
and an open heart.

I send a smile, like a dried leaf on
your wind, hoping it will reach you
but maybe not in time.
Nothing reaches you, these days –
your walls are too high,
and you took away my ladder

My skies are far from silent,
I’ve been rumbling,
brewing a thunderstorm full of
lightning, drowning out the sun.
But my water will not fall on you anymore –
you built yourself an umbrella
that makes you impervious
to rain