death

When The Rain Came

at ten, I think
is when, I think
death came.
He had, of course
announced himself
upon the grey
tipped rain
(..sudden on the window pane)
but strangely
that was all
no black
foreboding pall
(..or bugle’s dampened call)
just quiet
pregnant quiet
silence, save
the grey tipped rain
(..sudden on the window pane)
which replaced her breath
now lost,
to never, ever
sound again.