Rain

The rain is constant, cozy, cool

That last chance to crawl into a cocoon before summer gets here and all the cocoons melt away, or mildew, or cease to be in some other way.

The pitter patters are like lullabies, gentle reminders of times gone by, times when my world was full of people even if they weren't present.

Windows light up in the distance.  Windows with yellow lights that say, "Come home.  Come home."

I expect to smell meat cooking with garlic and onions in the kitchen, to hear the clanking of silverware as someone sets the table in dining room, to see lights flicker on all around me.

But those are only the echos of days gone by. Ghosts of things past that seem so precious, so rare.

There is only the rain, constant, cozy, cool

Dredging up senses better left dormant.