I still hear the rain dripping onto my roof.
We’re in the middle of a drought.
The aroma of spring rain lingers around me.
The air is so dry my skin parches.
My cheeks feel the rain drops still.
My tongue yearns to catch them falling,
remembering ever so vividly their light impact.
But the sun is out.
It hasn’t rained in months,
no clouds have even hinted
and yet all I can think about is the rain
filling every pore of me.
The thing is … I don’t really like rain.
I don’t see the fascination,
but the thought of it won’t leave me alone.
Those few good memories with rain remain.
I can savor the sun all I want…
that still doesn’t stop me from wanting
the rain to return and sweep me off my feet.
