Here comes the rain,
pouring from my heart,
as the skies turn lifeless,
and serenity fills the air.

I cozy up near a window,
a window with a view of the street,
as the cars splash by,
and the pedestrians pass by,
I sip from my strong, black coffee.

While watching tears drip from the leaves of fenced trees,
memories fill my head.
Nourished memories,
empty memories,
memories of romance and quiet towns.
But out in the streets,
the youths passing me,
must be fantasizing their dreams as well.

I wonder if the people that I see,
were people I once knew,
the people I smiled at in the hall,
the people who were my acquaintances,
my “husbands”,
the people possibly still trying to follow their ally.

Of course, I was a foolish child as well,
but I knew I would have to grow up,
because my stepmother always told me to do so.
But the long, messy hair,
and braces that I bared,
I never imagined would disappear.
Along with my Lisa Frank notebooks,
filled with puppy stickers and dreams,
as well as my cat Oliver,
who seemed to live forever.

With everything I thought,
I tried to summarize in a reality.
Sometimes I succeeded,
sometimes I failed,
sometimes I never got to see the day,
where two enemies,
shared laughs amongst each other,
but I can’t say,
that I didn’t try,
or that my dreams were in vain.

I think back to what my father used to say,
    his words of unconditional acceptance,
though he never told me,
what was wrong with getting a pair of stilettos,
and the obstacles that my stepmother warned me that I was approaching.

My father’s love was never limited,
but stepmother’s came with a price.
Cook and clean,
was her daily,
and her net worth was nothing all year.
But her wisdom had taught me something,
not that my dreams were non existent,
because she revealed the message,
the true maturity,
that boils inside of me.

As the angels tears slow from a downpour to a drizzle,
I whisper the phrase from a little tune I learned in my Kindergarten days,

“Raindrops keep falling on my head…”