Spring Rain by Clair Wright

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.