Gethsemene

The Man in the Rain

In the rapture of dark does she hold her breath 'Gainst them finding her out and causing her pain. So still does she hold that it could be her death, But she's only awaiting the man in the rain. For she knows full well when the skies grow grey And the sleet pelts down 'gainst her windowpane That all she needs do is slip quiet away To wait all in silence for the man in the rain. No, she does not know from whence does he come Neither does she care to where he goes, She only hears his call like the beat of a drum, And every time she answers, and no one else knows. Every time that he greets her he is slick, he is cold They are desperate together, for long he cannot stay. So she listens to his stories, things that no one else has told; So he listens to her breathing 'twixt the words she'll choose to say. Once the anxiousness of having found the other ebbs away He will settle down against her, breathe her perfume, crush her dress. She will stare out in the wet and dark and pray this time he'll stay While he seeks out his own comfort locked within her heaving breast. It's the patter on the tin roof, Rivulets across the floor, Gusts of wind that sweep small rivers Of fresh rain from 'neath the door. Yes it's driving her to madness Yet she only begs for more. In the morning, strewn with sunlight, does she wake, begin to weep, Does her mother bid her quiet for her father's yet asleep. Dirty slippers by her bedside testify to where she's been, But the slippers give no answers, such as where and why and when. Grows the sky again to storm's tide, glows the girl within her room He will not deny her passion, she'll be bride and he'll be groom With neither priest nor ring to bless them as they dance upon their tomb. Once again she slips out quiet at night, fleeting cross the slipp'ry grass again Oh there's children somewhere, and they're praying for the light But this girl is lost in madness for her one man in the rain.