Barely a Distant Rain

If only ever for the faithful few
still left among the herds of wandering
on these highland meadows under such a fragile sun
where yet, at least, some part of the old trails lead

.. it's only, my Lady of Woes, I can't remain for very long,
despite the aching in my old bones and your shyly offered dreams,
you see, there's a time of leaving I have kept waiting
I will have to ask forgiveness from
one of these days

Well, at least those old division bells have been quiet
these softly spoken days, left to themselves gently drifting
on the shimmering of fragile little wings a-fluttering
and not much need for anything else

and I, whom so seldom have had the time
I have been walking meadows for some few bouquets
and where forgiveness has yet to be asked
I have gone and tried to make amends

Offering meadowblooms and other sweetscented things
if for no one else, then for myself, for
I'd like to see you again, Lady Woefulness, just
not underneath a skyful of rain

Come meet me instead
under these very most delightful of clouds
and speak to me of whatever you wish
or we could speak not at all or only very little,
in naught but murmor and whisperings

whatever be your wish, little one,
today I'll follow where you lead
be it on the longest of roads
or from nowhere to nowhere else
from nothing to nothing too, and I'll even tell you
little lovely nothings from time to time


.. for if nothing else, my Lady, in your willful woefulness
you tend to smile with such lingering loveliness
in those places so full of every loneliness
both you and I ourselves in our aimless wanderings
one can tell the lightening of skies taking place

when the Lady of Woeful Clouds forgets her sorrowful mien
instead, she greets the dawn with such soulful tenderness
It's all to easy to believe she didn't mean to do anything else
that no matter how fragile her offered kiss
it won't break at the very first of your breaths
or even simply by accident

Well, then again, I won't refuse shelter of such kind,
when it's nothing else between me and this endless rain
that seems to like following me around these days
content to be alongside my wayward ways

and you, dearest Lady of Woe, have often spoken of rain,
in your myriad of softly spoken days
and I don't ever think I'd mind it again
to listen to such a woeful tale told in such a way
as you do when you tell such tales of rain


my beloved little one, my lady of woe and woefulness
I believe I can hear a little bit of distant rain
casting light and gentleness on your fragile little kiss

I hear you smile before you do and I won't forget
to smile while I listen to your woeful tales
and for that very distantmost of rains

I have heard lives in the places where you smile despite yourself
and despite of your kisses ever so chaste

I do not mind, in any way,
your wayward wish I would remain to dream
alongside your sleepy dreamings on highland meadows
some few old trails still seems to lead
for you, I'll dream any dream you need,
it's just that I can't really stay for very long,

.. you see, I kept this time of leaving waiting for long enough
I believe I will have to ask it for forgiveness
as it is, my friend, I can still make amends
but beyond one of these days soon
forgiveness is too hard to come by
and I don't think I would make it back if I went looking,
anyways