Rain falls hard
pouring angst and anguish
each raindropp just a widow to her sorrow
as she hits the pavement.
A burst
of life,
as it leaves the little raindrop
and gives it back to the afternoon air.
Such a widow to her own hapiness,
as she watches her sisters
falling hard against the pavement.
Widows of the world.
The tears of mothers and daughters and men
hitting the pavement
in angst and anguish.
One at a time,
giving her life,
in hopes to make the world new again.
And in the end
when life is breathed out from every raindrop,
I myself, we oursleves,
become like a raindropp too.
Free from the sky, free from our sorrows,
as we fall down and hit the pavement
letting out our own angst and anguish,
each of us widows to our sorrow.