The sky is dark and gray,
with little hints of fading rays.
My jeans are soaked from the stubborn rain
as I move through traffic’s lane.

Loneliness hums in quiet loops,
My mind rewinds old nested truths.
Perhaps this weather fits me well,
I mutter low, with no one to tell.

I too reach out for something true.
To hold, to keep, to carry through.
To feel, to fly, to simply be,
Like wind-swept grass that runs with me.

And maybe hope’s still in my chest.
A part of me that never left.