The moon's weak rays
draw outlined trees
against the cloud filled sky.

The beams of light
through trees they fight
reach out to touch his eyes.

Breathed vision cast
by a source so vast
gives birth to a scene unknown:

A boy's sad face
who's only embrace
is the cold cement below.

The constant roar
is just once more
the falling of the rain,

But each drop splashed
is another dream smashed
till nothing will remain.

Smells of earth
and wet clumped dirt
are carried on the wind.

It's icy cold
but it gets so old
being out like this again.

Dark silhouettes
make marionettes
of the shadows from above.

They move in slow
and set aglow
the faults behind his bluff.

These cool affairs
rid his despair
he's found uncomfortably calm.

Content and at ease
he gets up from his knees
now with new aplomb,

Left darkness's scenes
and night's figurines
to carry on alone.

Changed through and through
with feelings anew
that he could never have known.



**************
I just sat there silently, watching it all.
Looking up at the monochromatic silhouetted still life of darkness.
I could have sat there all night.

The silence of the night and the shower of droplets
were music enough for me:
Calming to the soul and resting to the brain.
 
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