It rained the whole time when you were away,
not all the time but at least once a day.
Rain drops made quick bubbles as they hit the ground,
small short lived air pockets I was surrounded around.
While others cascaded along the windows,
guided by air that softly would blow.

The tick tacking and pidder padding,
The smell of the breeze and it's cleansing.

The rain is an unspoken season of it's own,
some play outside while others hide at home.
More often than summer, it comes and it goes,
evoking emotions like the winter's snow.
Yet still helps the withered, all dried up and cracked,
but can't save the dead in hopes to bring back.

And that brings us back to where I'm sitting at,
without you around it feels more like an attack.
Attacking the loneliness and memories of,
The joy we had found from the rain falling above..

..But you're not around and then, only then
Does the rain take the shape of a foe,                        no longer a friend.
With you I found joy when it poured from the sky,
but now I'm alone and would rather stay inside.