an ordered departure

 we always seem to leave there in the rain

not in light drizzle but a heavy pour

that catches us straightway we leave the door

yet we're back with no reason once again

to find our way through torrents to the plain

it seems too much and yet we ask for more

as if this were a torment we adore

the price of pleasure being this hard strain

the thunder speaks and we dare not respond

since all our fears are centred in that sound

when it is echoed by each traitor heart

revealing that we won't refuse the bond

and most afraid that hope will not rebound

because our hands and minds have lost the art