July Rain

I sit here, looking at you by the window (French doors) The window to the street; open and a July's stormy wind whispering through the open pane The sky darkens and the dry dust is touched by falling pellets of rain The staff go to close the open glass But you sit by the window untouched by the falling sound of water; eyes only for your friend And people walk past in the street Some stop and read the fare But you seem not to notice as they decide their choice As I watch I wonder what words you listen to so eagerly as the wind begins to chill

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Written by

fender1961

62 / M / Guildford, Surrey UK

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