Melancholy raining, dripping down
No obvious reason can be found
Spreading cross the quiet landscape
Resting briefly on a innocent face
Then running down
On tears of those lost, wandering round.
Maybe someday a bright sun will shine
Dark, foreboding clouds pass
Dissipate and show guiding lights
Til then only melancholy
Can be found
Reigning so profound.
© Patrice Clarkson – 2019