Tiny droplets gently spattered down,
a weight the clouds could no longer hold;
and the earth received with grace,
drinking the sky’s released sorrow.

The air, clean and weightless,
with the last gray weight shed down,
became the limitless canvas
for all the shades in a spectrum’s bow.

A sight that soothes the mind—
but mine refused to follow,
clinging to every whispered confession
you released into the wind,

each word a prism unfolding,
each silence, a held breath—
I watched, waiting,
for your sky to rise in colors.

So when the worst storms come,
love, let me be your earth;
to soak in all the heaviness.