The rain she’d not have felt

if wind hadn’t awoken skin to touch –

sensation closed off from dermis

long-used to emptiness of caress –

pale flesh goose-pimpled at the cold

recollection of his departure.

She shivers, teeth clamped shut against

thought of him, ‘gainst the adverse

weather wrapping her in her own mood,

and she strides on, head down, shoulders tense –

muscles knotted, no strong fingers to knead away

her worries and her cares; stress dresses itself

over her whole body – she strides on,

but eyes don’t catch the jagged edge

of waiting stone to send her flying

to her knees, forced into supplication

yet again.  A pause; trembling hands.

Mud seeps through her clothes

and her tears join the rain.

Wind dies away, soft

exhale of her sobs

its memory