April Showers

April showers, the pattering

Of innocence, drip over my

Face, over the patterns left

Underneath my skin. I let the traces

Fade away, watching old cells

Die and fall like raindrops. Flesh

Breeds new flesh, and I can feel

The stretching of their thoughts, wondering

If time can heal broken pasts

Like a nail into wood. A table cloth

To decorate a scratch in the

Veins of a wooden table, is everything

That easy to mend?