It was pouring rain
the night my mother died.
I sat in a shadow,
with my back to a window
while my sister,
she watched the people outside-
skipping in puddles and dancing, laughing.
We listened together
to a very sad song on repeat,
for hours and hours again, the same somber notes
falling gently away.
We reminisced and predicted. Behind us,
We didn't know our mother was dying back east.