Rainey Rain

This is in memory of my sister-in-law, Mary Colleen Murphy, who passed away in 1987 at the age of 27.

Rainey Rain

He called you Rainey,

He could not say your name.

So, Rainey you became,

Or, sometimes, Rain.

An appropriate name it was,

You girl-child with a heart of blues,

Who played her song into the night,

Who played her song with the moon.

A sad and sweet and lonely song

Your trumpet would unfrul.

Then one day your music stopped,

Your trumpet played no more.

Oh, to climb the highest mountain

And call out into the air,

"I loved you, Rain, I loved you,"

And hope that you could hear.

I always wondered if you knew,

After all, I named my child for you.

So, I think you knew; Yes, you knew,

It was my way of saying,

"I Love You."



Copyright Catherine Coyle Murphy 1995