The Departed, On A Rainy Day

On the glass cling thousands of drops
Rain from somewhere, maybe Heaven
A belief you tended to cajole

It’s there, I can reach out and touch it
I only cannot feel it in the numbness
Of the missing presence of your soul

What’s that? One drop touches another
I watch such a replicating feat create
A reflection, possibly your face

But now the drops are from my tears
For the sun’s reality so rudely intrudes
And you’re gone again, without a trace