Windowsill Poem by Amy Carr

A glass of wine in hand,
I listen to the rain
as it falls heartlessly
all around me.
Safe behind metal screening,
I watch the world transform
and turn grey,
and bright,
and seemingly foreign.

I had forgotten the
splendor of rain before now;
the delicate white noise of it
that invades my sleep
and will forever remind me of you.

Ensconced away here,
barely an inch from falling
from my perch,
listening to the torrent
of soundless words outside,
I wonder if you know
what you've done to me.

Or if you know how far
my affection outweighs
my right to care for you,
and how my broken promises
hang about my neck like tears.

But the rain beats down
and washes away my guilt
and occupies my mind
long enough
to distract,
to cloud,
to send it all away
down the drains
of abandoned buildings...

to make me forget that you're leaving.