old friend

tonight I and the quiet
make a companion of the rain
whose soft staccato taps
at the window as if
asking to be let in
this – the first silence
in weeks – is as welcome
now as any old friend
or comfortable shoe
we fit, you see, without
straining and fill
without words (without
asking) the nooks
and bends of the other
’til I am quiet and quiet
is me and all is right
with the rain coming in
on the sill

© Sarah Whiteley

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9 thoughts on “old friend

  1. Strange your poem reminded me of the sound of the old rain barrel outside my room at my Grandmother’s home…sounds of the rain…and the peaceful memories of her voice…thanks for that.

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