. . .Rain, Dear Old Friend, Rain

Kenneth is a rural citizen of Hamilton, Ala., and has begun to observe life and certain things and people helping him to write about them.

I can only guess that there is something about the rain

It’s calm, soothing, reassuring presence.

Teaching me that rain is no one’s servant or slave.

Rain, oh how wonderful your essence.

Rain, dear old Friend, Rain, you lull me to sleep

And I do not contend your spell—I fall quickly.

Each drop, each different than the other.

Rain, dear old friend, Rain—falling on my worries so sickly.

Rain, why will you only be here in a thought

Feeding the beauty in the lovely rose?

And the silent fog that dear Rain, you’ve brought.

Rain, dear old Friend, Rain, no rhyme or prose.

Rain, dear old Friend, Rain, cupping hands like burglar’s touch

Walking, sifting and slipping through castles of sand.

Bringing briers up, and laughing at man.

Rain, dear old Friend, Rain, ageless like the land.

Rain, dear old Friend, Rain, be with me ‘til my breath ceases

Taking me back to journey’s wink.

Taking me from here to phantom’s lair.

Rain, dear old Friend, Rain let my feeble heart just sink.

Writer's summary – actually, no hidden codes or symbols

inside the abstract/prose, only true feelings.

--Kenneth