Butterflies should stop flying and
squirrels should stop climbing.
Since you are gone, my life before.
And all its components.
But still, without you there is
rain.
I don't know why.
The "how" of it eludes me; the
where is lost.
Flowers seem to be growing, even
though it is winter.
But then, maybe it isn't winter.
It could be spring, and flowers
could be dead.
Without you, Or baffled; I know
nothing, now.
You see, you are gone, but it's
still raining.
Tomorrow it may be sunning,
And the day after it may be fogging.
I don't know.
But even though you still crouch
in my heart,
saying "This was me,"
Everywhere else the lack of you
is a loud silence.
And still, there is rain. I don't
know why.
Andrea Sykes
July, 2000