I found a woman keeping rain in jars,

I found a woman keeping rain in jars,
She labelled every drop with names and scars,
She said the tears belonged to yesterday,
But smiled each time the clouds forgot to stay.

Her kitchen shelves were crowded to the sky,
With bottles holding storms that wandered by,
One jar was silver, one was midnight blue,
And one contained the rain that fell on you.

She never spoke about the empty chair,
Or why she brushed an old coat hanging there,
She’d pour the rain and whisper, “Let it go,”
Then watch it climb the window nice and slow.

A little robin came and stole her bread,
Then perched beside the photographs instead,
She laughed so hard she nearly dropped her tea,
And said, “Well love, you’re just like family.”

At midnight one jar started glowing gold,
It hummed a tune that sounded strangely old,
She opened it and heard somebody say,
“Your heart survived another bloody day.”

She cried a bit, then laughed at being sad,
She’d always been a complicated mad,
For every broken thing she’d ever known,
She’d somehow planted roses from the stone.

By morning all the bottles had gone clear,
The woman couldn’t find a single tear,
She looked outside and whispered to the sun,
“Perhaps I’m not finished yet… perhaps I’ve won.”

And if you pass her doorway after dark,
You’ll see one little bottle throwing sparks,
Don’t ask her why she keeps it by the door,
She’ll say, It’s just tomorrow… nothing more.