Rain

I saw those clouds start to creep
Behind the cordillera on a cold windy street
Their fumes bask the city in dusky gray
And the buildings shiver with the threat of rain
the Mapocho was swelling, steady and slow
While I stand small and humble below

In my room I have all to which my life has lead
My Bible, Steinbeck, a desk and bed.
On a borrowed guitar, melodies float and fade
In the hushing dance of the midnight rain
And the family I live with is joining the tune
Their chores throwing light on the window of my room

As the midnight struck, I still lay awake
With thinking of days for memories sake.
the patter of raindrops carried it away
The past is dead, or so they say.
        
I live like the stranger in this southern cone
Yet the tin roof clatter is my welcoming home
No thought of wine nor precept of yeast
Could deafen the silence in the very least
Though the rays of the day can awaken my sorrow,
The hush of the rain always hopes for tomorrow.

~Jared