Soft the rain falls
On a little girl’s dreams
As the windows streak with tears
For the mother and father she barely had:
The ghost of her Mama, the voice of her Dad —
Before she came here to be told, “don’t be sad”
In this impassive place
Still the rain beats
On the roof overhead
As her mind jumps past the years
To a festive wedding with her the bride;
Lovely, with her Daddy there by her side –
But she can’t make the face out – the love, the pride –
Nor see her Mama’s tears
Sad the wind blows
From the far mountain streams
To join with her in her plea
Soft the rain falls
On a little girl’s dreams
With nobody there
To see
