She must have come here in the pouring rain.
In the form of the pouring rain.
Falling down the roof.

Down you hair, if you’re outside. Down your temple, your face. Kissing your skin.

Reaching my skin, draped over my body like a warm blanket…
A wonderful thought.

You may not be aware of that single drop,
but she did kiss your skin before she fell down the pavement.

Like promises on your favourite park bench.