Blues In The Rain
By
Jude Kyrie

There’s a storm brewing Mama.
I cannot see through the driving rain.
Just human shapes walking about the town.
Like people in a hall of mirrors
I have the blues, Mama.
But worse than the blues
the blues turned dark grey.
I know she’s out there, Mama
Walking with people we don’t know.
I can hear her laughter
The clinking of her wine glass.
But I can’t see her anymore, Mama.
The rain it falls too hard.
I am too used
to her being there, Mama.
Warming the house the gardens.
I became accustomed to
the olive green forest
and snow capped mountains.
Happiness was a habit
of my heart, Mama.
But now the rain
This endless rain.