a sorrowful new dawn descends
in rainstorms painted by the night
which in their darkened shades do render
glassy shadows to the light.
no watercoloured dreams are these
its strokes are bold and without guile
and draughted with such cold unease
ill comfort in both form and style.
so paints the rain in this last spring
yet soon an artist young awakes
with pastel palette colours singing
for when summer’s first morning breaks.