That rise
From sidewalks
In pouring rain,
Past voices
That rebuked
My youth
Return again;
Lines of rain
Weave a tapestry
Of pain,
Crackling with
Crumpled cellophane.
In haunted doorways
Down the lane
Spirits mock
That I still suffer pain—
A bitter ache
Can't be erased
With benzocaine.
Brooding sylphs
Of youth long forgot
Tempt me
To recall your ghost
Memories now distant
As storms of Venus…
Yet I cherish each moment.