Blue

There is always rain,
On days like these.
If you listen closely,
You may hear its melody.
A private symphony of tears.
The inspiration behind such a sorrowful storm,
Lies with its creator.
Moments that once brought sunshine,
Now invoke this sky of clouds.
Or it may be a ritual,
In remembrance of a specific day.
Who among us,
Has not composed such a piece.
Just like with the rain,
It is cleansing.
It is necessary.
Yet few look forward to it.
We will ever be reluctant,
In its embracing.
These days of sadness.
Of venturing into the blue.