getting drenched by the downpour,
listening to thousand rain drops
hitting the pavement.
You step through pools of water,
and your weight lifts them up
to splash on your legs.
I cannot tell the difference
between your tears and the rain
washing down your eyes,
your cheeks, your neck,
but I can see from this window, your white teeth
and what seemed to be a smile
but the breeze and rain wiped them away.
Too bad, I would really rather be home,
in this bed,
to run my playlist over and over,
louder than the sound of the heavy rain.
I don't want to be where the water rises up
to become an angry flash flood,
and carry me away from you.
You are not ready to come home yet
to be warm and safe, and that is OK.
