Of the Sky

Clear black rain fell on me
And you silently stood
As far away as you could ever be
But not even an inch from where you should

Faint clusters of distant stars
Strained to be seen
By both of two fools, eyes blackened with tars,
Who now are not allowed to say what they mean

White snowflakes drift
And melt where they land
Facing north, my eyes lift
From wondering at an empty right hand