I look down at my desk and
then in kind
the pen and paper also stare
at me.
I try to think but nothing
comes to mind.
Outside I hear the sound of
pouring rain
inviting me to come and soak
my feet.
If nothing else, distraction
from the pain.
I grab my coat and head out
to the street.
I'm still as aimless as
before, and yet,
although I know not where I
will arrive,
and even though my feet are
cold and wet
I can't remember feeling
this alive.
I think perhaps I'll write
about the rain
and how it makes a dead
thing live again.