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Here comes the rain.

The lost compass holds the disoriented picture to dissolve.  

While the tumbling droplets will descend and wash away thoughts.

Here comes the rain.

Shades of cloudy memory like colored pencils.

Leaving behind a river of impressions in a hopeful after tone.  

Here comes the rain.

I hope it comes my way.

To reach my very soul and listen to my prayer.

Then bring it back away to the one above our heads.

Here comes the rain.

Crumbling in a rivet of ink forming dreams.

A trinket of mind typed originals.

For I got a need for the unknown.

Here comes the rain.

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