Rain Drops Poem by Alan Strand

Rain drops die-
A passive pitter-pattering of death
On my dark windshield.

I have to go home alone
And face the emptiness
Of your shadowy memories
Which flit about my condo
At every turn
Like lost and lonely ghosts.

My cats greet me
For they long for love too
In the soft touch of a hand.

My loss is theirs too
So they nudge me to
Weep softly
In the dark.

(For my love Christiane, upon coming from Thailand to an empty home,2008/06/06,0145 hrours.)
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