Rain's Print

Rain falls upon the yellowed page,
a forgotten newspaper sheet,
caught in a pocket by a curious wind,
and time folds itself between its lines.
Each drop prints a memory on the white,
an old Sunday line resurfaces,
among crumpled headlines and trembling hands,
the ink sleeps and then awakens.
The pocket is a small corridor room,
the rain scratches letters like a key,
names, places, voices return in silence,
until they are recognized between paper and rain.
When the rain ceases, a faint echo remains,
a dry memory that resists time,
the page still breathes, a damp testimony,
of the day when the wind read of us.