From a distance they would look like two figures,
or one,
surrendered to grief.
Wrapped up in one another to escape the rain.
Their tiny umbrella allowing heavy drops to fall,
Surreptitiously sliding down their back,
Their faces,
Their arms.
"My feet are soaked" he groaned,
She tilted her head back and laughed.
Their eyes met and a wicked grin replaced his pout.
They could not frown together.
They watched the rain, no longer fighting it off,
She paddled in her socks, feeling alive,
allowing the rain to slowly cello-tape,
their sodden, shivering bodies together.
They were peaceful.
A sound struggled through the rain.
As she gingerly pressed her head against his chest,
music pierced her ears,
Joy washed over her,
with force the rain could not compete with,
as she recognised the song, the band.
“Just like the movies.” She whispered.
clutching him closer,
"Just like the films”
The music escaped from your headphones,
but I like to say it came from your heart.