If shadows could slant they would struggle with the rain; but they`re
Only shadows, and shadows just are.

If mists and bogs were shadow made and shade were not a trade
With the sunlit day, then slanting rain would have no place to rest.

If restless raindrops were a nighttime shadow they would glance and
Shuffle along the tired brick walls, and vanish as they came – in silence.

When darkness veils the brushing of the mists against the windows
And its sounds enact the nights refrain, it`s only a question of rain.