such small hands

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.
-e.e. cummings

here comes the rain.

the skies roll over
letting the droplets fall from the sky,
gray and heavy.

i stand alone.
watching
staring
as the rain washes away the dust
the pain
of this tired place.

and sometimes,
i wish it would wash me away too.

here is the rain.

it will drown my sorrow
and
perhaps

even the memory of you.