A Cold December Night and the Rain
A cold December night and the rain
pummels the rooftops,
drops colorless pearls
on the kitchen window
my reflection
cloudy on the wet glass,
as icicle fingertips put away
pots and pans where they belong
hidden
until tomorrow’s bidding —
Long ago on a cold December night like this
while the rain pummeled the rooftops,
a porcelain cup broke gently,
delicate Saxon flowers
shattered on the floor
as I knelt to collect the broken pieces,
soft footsteps walked towards the door
and in an eternal moment
the door closed
slowly
like an ebbing tide —
A cold December night and the rain
pummels my heart
and once again
the rain brings me back to a place
of scattered Saxon flowers,
a broken porcelain cup
that once was whole.
D. G. Vachal © 2025
Image by AnNeef @ Pixabay
lilies, sparrows and grass 
Experience becomes thoughts becomes reflection becomes creating becomes verse becomes communication becomes relating becomes understanding becomes knowing the sun will rise again.
Thank you Dee. Very good
Thank you, RJ for sharing this chain of thought, with the resultant conclusion of “knowing the sun will rise again.” Beautifully worded. Blessings!
A beautiful, touching and melancholy memory! Just right for right now.
Thank you so much, Ellen! Cold, rainy December nights indeed bring out melancholic thoughts!