She listens to Kate Bush on a Sunday morning looks out on her garden and the new buds flowering sipping Earl Gray tea a spoon of sugar she's stirring then says to me, "Bet you wish it was raining."
"How'd you know?" "'Cause your a child of the rain. I sense it in your smile, but I can't explain. There's a strangeness to your eyes like a constant pain. Just thought you should know what I see." I think she knows me.