it's a good day for rain

Books stuck to the ceiling, and broken records on the floor,
A black and white picture of an unknown singer
sticky-taped to the door,
Chipped fingernails drum out a nervous beat,
While worn satin slippers encase icicle feet.
They’re waiting.
Take me through the paces; lead me to the stage,
For while I’m performing, I cannot be afraid,
I’m blind to their judgment, but happily so,
It’s intimate scrutiny that’s carefully avoided, wherever I go.
A barely travelled road leads me up a garden path,
And I revel in the weather, the day promisingly overcast.
Rainclouds are my friends, sunlight is my foe,
Unforgiving rain comforts me, waters me, helps me to grow.
My records are afloat now;
they drift with me down the rushing stream,
And pages from my novels flutter overhead,
strange birds in a beautiful dream.
I’ll never see them again, but I’ll not weep, because you see,
Now they are as I am, they are free.