i could sit on my windowsill for hours
sipping tea as the raindrops splash into puddles
and the aftermath is left to lay on the floor
but then the skies turn from grey to black
and the rain stops
and it starts to hail
and the hail stones are like tiny ice-cubes
that melt when they hit the small rivers in the dents of the street
and the meaning of where i'm sat
is that when you were here

you'd know that whenever i'm sad
or upset or in need of someone to
show me what i'm missing
you'd hold me tight and sit with me
and we'd count the raindrops
that fall and make larger things


(a.t)