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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The Unsigned Writer 
Beautiful poem J. Merry Christmas to you and your family ❄️☃️🌟❤️
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Thank you! I appreciate that. I hope you had a good one.
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Wow… absolutely stunning. “Shades of cloudy memory like colored pencils.”
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Thank you Miss Emm. Appreciate your feedback.
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