Before the clouds grow black
They are gray
Before the sun shines, to bask in the moon
With starry eyes and heavy lids
Dreams of what no longer is
Throbbing in my shoulder
Locking of my knee
Weakness in my wrist
All the injuries of my youth
I can feel the rain before it comes
I am sad before I sleep
I sleep as heavy as the downpour
Calmly when it’s light
Where I am happy in my imagination—
But what of a rainy week?
Where I live in my head
So many hours spent asleep
Living like the dead
© The Sad Owl
