Tell

The rain patters softly on the grey day,
Soft child footsteps on the pavement,
The streets below are vacant,
While I wait and listen to the October-weather ballet.

I'm alone on the corner, but that's alright,
I've got my newspaper for company,
But it's all filled with funerary rights,
Causing me to fall into melancholy.

My friends are all gone,
We came as a group, but I've lost them all along the way,
I can't expect them all to stay,
The lines, the crossroads, they're all drawn.

The wind has grown cold,
My feet carry me down the street,
I was young when I began, but now I feel old,
That feeling that comes with age - being obsolete.

Isaac fell off the face of the Earth,
Angelo never really made it far,
Susan went next; she got hit by a car,
It's hard to tell you what they're worth.

The rain is coming down harder now,
Attacking my parasol,
Is this water? Or tears at my brow?
As I remain outside in this rainfall.

I am surprised that I even got here,
At this moment in time,
The journey's over, now there's only the climb,
The hardest part was burying you in the past, dear.