The rain recited poems, the shivers infiltrated your bones till the marrow.
It paused in a mournful veranda to create your shadow from a puddle
Which did not give a hope and possibility Its moans irritated the days
Its screams whipped the quietness
The rain did not cease to recite poems the anguish looked for the feeling of the past
It gave a magic key to open the memory drawers;
I was dying, splattered with the poems, and you never cared.