It's raining outside. Of course
It's raining outside, it always
Rains here.
The drops rasp on the skylight;
They streak down the windows,
Clinging onto
the glass, praying not to hit
the ground.
Hitting on the glass, the ticky-tack
Drip-drop pitter-patter paradiddle
Resounds in my mind.
I hear it, the rain, but not the rain.
I hear it, your voice.
The way you laugh, your rises and
falls, your tiny snorts, your aghast
gasps and sounds of speech.
Your lips parting and pursing, your
Tongue weaving a song, breath
Sounding and resounding
with the rise and fall of your
chest, heavy with tender love.
The deep gray refracted in the water
Is so friendly, so inviting, when it
Speaks with your gentle voice.
It's raining outside, and I would bet
It's raining on you too. Maybe even,
The whispers in the rain,
Sound like me
to you.
