There was no lightening or thunder

Just a dreary blanket of rain that night.

There was no wind blowing at all,

And trees stood at the attention of buildings mortared beside them.

But there was traffic splashing pails of rain on pedestrians,

Breathless as they stood like sculptures in the rain.

From the distance,

I could see the street lights gazing vividly atop the frigid steel poles,

Giving way to none of the suggestions

Prompted by the awesome winter chills.

Even puddles had merged,

Seemingly going no where…

Like sculptures in the rain.

I waited in wonder, hoping and praying with the others,

Hand in hand, our hearts in despair

Under a bridge we called home.

“Now God,” I prayed,

“If you’re really up there, and you really hear me,

Please make amends for the sculptures in the rain.