In the night, grief falls like rain.
It is the gentle patter of tears,
Or the cold drizzle of sadness
Or a sudden, heavy downpour
That drenches completely.
It seeps through the cracks of a parched heart,
Swells the seed of memory, and stirs
A reluctant, fragile unfurling,
That, tender, turns towards the light
To blossom and bleed afresh.