It's four o clock.
Storms of winter creeping in.
Tumbling darkest blackest cloud.
Wind's a monster roaring loud.
A blanket of rain is soaking me though.
Drowning in thoughts of missing you too.
Drenched as each evening calls the rain.
Beaten hard.
It eats the brain.
Once the rain it fell insipid.
Today it's biting.
Perpetually absorbing.
Eaten by clothes.
Running raindrops.
Dripping nose.
Cold and horrid.
It's  four o clock tomorrow too.
The raindrops rock on pavements.
Not really daily raindrops, but the tears I cry for you.
(c)LIVVI