Another rainy day in February

I went for a walk in my memory, I thought of the many places I could see
I stood at the gates of someplace I could only slightly remember
like a fading memory of someone I only thought I could ever know
I went for a walk but there was no one to talk to- not even
the winter's misery upon the grass that will not grow.

I looked out from the dirty windows of my bedroom, I shed tears
since I should be going home someday soon. I wanted to call my
mother but there is no phone that can reach her now- across the vast
distance like a shadow receding along the paint peeled walls of a house
that no longer stands even in the memories of this my shattered past.

The days are bleak and the sun often refuses to shine, I want to write
even when I have no reason to rhyme. I want to run out into
the day's bleary light, but I cannot find my shoes, I know I had them
sometime last night. It is inconsequential and a little sad
that I come by all this honestly since we were all a little mad.

I went for a walk in the month of February, it rained like
it does this time of year. I sometimes feel I can feel my mother's
unfamiliar touch, her voice as it echoes her own misgivings about
life inside my ears. I often think that she gave into her fears,
that her losing her friends and family was far worse then
when those memories had faded, nothing left in the end to save.
I should go out tomorrow and plant flowers in her grave.

Now it is time for the final act, I am but a poor player on this
darkened stage- empty but for the echoes of those years
What if I could reach out and touch the candle's flame?
Would I know what line from Shakespeare to utter with rage
then sputtering flee from that one hour I had to walk
there in my sorrow and shame?

There are no good answers to the questions I have to ask.
There are no ways to thank my parents since they have passed
There is only this metaphor like a prayer, a funeral masque
In the graveyard where the ashes of those who loved me still remain,
Here is the plot, there is the stone, upon which is engraved:
Here lies one fool, forever apart, forever alone.