Rain on Heavy Petals

Grey clouds gather low and block the sun, sudden showers before the day is done — drop after drop, cold and sharp and fast, weighing my gold until it bows at last. Each bead that glistens holds a memory: of words unkind, of nights I cried alone, of promises that melted in the mist, of heavy burdens on my heart laid down. But rain feeds life as much as sun and light; it washes dust and weariness from sight. I let it fall, let sorrow have its hour, then lift my head with fresh and growing power. Heavier now, but cleansed and bright again, my petals glow where falling rain had been — softened by tears, strengthened by every storm, ready to turn where warm rays will reform.