• The world is colored grey today,
    mist gathering around.
    The rain upon my window pane,
    it makes a hollow sound.

    Sound stolen from the heavy air,
    robbed of reason and of rhyme
    permits for thoughts to wander,
    roaming freely for a time.

    Staring eyes upon the foggy glass,
    watching rivulets run race.
    Losing self to deafening silence,
    for even time has stopped its paces.

    Aware if warmth between my hands,
    rising scent of chamomile.
    Glance into herbal reflections
    and watch the dancers dance a while.

    Theirs is a dance of joyful sorrow,
    a brief and beautiful display,
    for as quickly as their dance begins,
    they soon must fade away.

    They rise and fall, then rise again
    to the unforgiving air.
    Swirling, twirling, skirts billowing;
    wallowing in their despair.

    Tears of joy and smiles of woe
    writ upon their faces fair
    as they dance their sweet ballet
    and give their souls unto the air.

    Take a drink to their rememberance.
    Shed a tear and smile a smile.
    Sigh a sigh and dream a dream for them,
    if only for a little while.