April showers

had these walls been made of stone
if these windows were opaque
or the drapes were wrought of iron
this might not have found me

but the sound; the breath
a calmly spoken word unknown
drawing me forth
like a moth to the flame

walking through; rained upon
pausing to understand the past
shall tempting the unknown
ever become a reality

tired eyes close
weak arms sway
spent legs buckle
do I slumber

a weary step falls out of place
and startles this agreement
from the comfort of its den
while the fog woefully lifts

who told me to walk here
much time has passed
why do I pause here
as wind warms my face

in the woods
near an unending path
that went in a small circle
I stand

to turn around and see
these invisible chains
and watch as they dissolve
in rain which slowly ends

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