Back when I was young

I could run around for fun.

When I ran around in the rain.

The rain took my pain.

I could walk in the night, miles on end.

I could run a marathon in the rain.

I could appreciate the pleasantness.

I could drink that sweet rain. 

But now I can’t. I can’t walk

Or run in the rain.

Or appreciate the quiet darkness.

Or live in the ambiance of the pitter patter.

Or love the cold warmth.

The rain is there, silent at the door.

Awaiting my answer, my opening.

But I still do not open.

My teeth are rotten.

And the sickeningly sweet rain is waiting outside

The rain, so tantalizing and taunting.

My cold memories are warm, befriending.

They remain there, that freezing

Tempting, tantalizing, fleeting, feeling.

And yet, there they remain

To be remembered, in my domain.