Rain Nymph

 I woke to the sound of falling rain
 Soaking my sleep clean of the dream,
 Where you looked to the sky as it beat
 Off your face trickling down
 The jungle leaves surrounding you,
 Pattering your closed eyelids,
 Purifying air that refreshed your grace,
 Soiling you to the ground that planted
 Ornaments of youth in my head.
 So fresh, so clean,
 The rain that feeds my heart
 Trickling down, soaking my pain,
 Draining my brain of the gothic muse
 To nurture pearls of flowers
 That bloomed at your feet,
 Screened you from the warmer months
 When the sun melted your skin,
 Cracked your bones, parched your hair,
 Discarded the heavy leaves
 Above you that heaven purged
 Beyond awareness.
 Every year, starting November,
 It rains for days, for months,
 For three quarters of the year,
 Floods my consciousness
 With Gregorian chant
 Channeling some Byzantine goddess
 That engraved your beauty through mist,
 Saturating me
 With the tears you left.