Watered

The rain depresses my inanity
And makes me ponder deeper than I would.
On sunny days, the world is wild and free;
The things I want to do I know I could.
But days like this are less silly, more sad
Yet only in the older, calmer sense.
I think about the options I have had,
With introspection, not ebullience.
Do not imagine that I hate the rain,
For without days like these, who would I be?
I fear my life would be naïve, inane,
And empty of the meaning I supply
On days like this. I love to watch the drip
And let the world possess me in its grip.