Rain Falls

Rain falls on the blooming jasmine just out of view from where I sit now, while a crooning voice sings me a tale of woe in melodic rhythm with the air between my fingers. "They don't forget" you say, as you pour me another. I agree, while staring at the glass. Instead of listening to the rest of his prose, I get up and go to the window, gently pushing against its weathered wood and the scent hits me whole. Like an intoxicating spell, ripe with spiritual awakenings. I hold my hand out and feel the dripping on my skin. For a moment I see myself dancing in that dark wind, so still and moist...breathing it deep into my lungs and exhaling all the remnants of what you stood for. And then I realize you're already gone. I close the window and listen to the pitter pat of time telling me it's moved on and I smile contently.

The inspirations for tonight's burst of poetry:
blooming jasmine
the sound of rain
ernesto riley