Rain has come, silence the voice of the pavement.
Dripping amongst potted things
dripping amongst the weeds
wiping away the gone away day.
Washing the sin from the stone
washing troubles to storm drains.
Be silent, quiet syncopated by tears from above,
angels water the gardens, holy holy holy.
angels watering the world.
Stain this scene with streetlights,
weak light against starlight.
Feeling the cool to come, feeling the lips of the clouds.
Feeling lips from the water.
Wash away the people, sleeping in houses.
Wash away the shadow of lies in alleyways.
Does the end redeem? in the end, do we wash clean?