Plundering through days
of melancholy rains
dancing off my mind,
collecting in my soul.
Upside-down umbrella,
drops pooled to overfilling,
cascades over
upturned edges.
Standing in the
midst of a waterfall
contemplating
all this moisture.
Skies, clear.
Sun, out.
From where
do
such rains
commence?
An answer lies
within a reflection.
The glass-like mirror
this storm creates.
Not rain
that surrounds me,
threatening
to drown.
Not storms
of outside
but those
of inner.
Tears
of my
own making.