Soaked and Free of Grief

She formed a cup with wrinkled hands,
Showering underneath a sky of gray.

Rain was not enough to wash away the years
Which croaked and crawled
Throughout her voice
Like frogs throughout an aging night.
Yet falling beads did take her back
To a child’s cheap yellow rain boots
Soaked through at the heels
When April was her freedom song.
Back when she was human,
And could station all her trinket-like possessions
Proudly in a line on snug patterned carpets -
Back before the roles were switched and she was his
And his handling was her safe haven.

Now an eroded palace, widowed of her king,
A pitied hag who lived in empty rooms,
While wallpaper peeled and her skin did the same…

She danced in untroubled jubilance, 
Jumped, and played games in the rain.