The Rain

It is raining. I hear her but I can´t see her. She whispers the sound of a lullaby to me in bed. Her voice is soft, soothing, calming, the path to a state of relaxation which kicks off the most peaceful dreams...of her. I admire her for her beauty, crystal clear, inner and outer. I feel the smoothness of her skin. I congratulate her intelligence to achieve and her perseverance to never give up swells me with pride. She is hopeful and hope. She is life.

She is part of a cycle that never ends. She is water in its most amazing state, a constant change, an amazing creation of the Creator. She drops after the draught and stops when it floods. Strong presence, my savior, I feel refreshed, recharged. I´ve seen and now I imagine her straight falling strips in the air, orchestral stump of sound on the pillow top. Golden. I hear her. She sounds so sad. Baby don´t cry. I am here, you are here, and we are together you and I. But if you must spill, lean on me, I will be the walls the lets you run down, the slope that drives you to the river, and the river that takes you back where it all started. The ocean. Evaporation. Her tears wiped on the sleeves of my shirt. Running, getting ready, coming and going, leaving, I feel her.

We talk. She talks to me before I got to sleep. There was no time to ask about her day. She asked me about mine. Falling asleep I answer in the heat of a routine. She´s not always around. There is no routine. Can we both fit under a pancho? Should I protect myself against her? She feels so good running down my skin. Silky finger tips, the raindrops tickle me. She has long hair, a passionate look in her eyes and conquering smile. We look good together, her and I. We enjoy the thunders, the lightning, the movement of the clouds elsewhere to let the sun shine.

Composition. She is not perfect, however exciting. Some days you just don´t want to get wet, you hate her. Others, I want her to come, there is nothing like dancing in the rain. There is nothing like kissing in the rain. There is nothing like making love in the rain. She´s magical. A solution. An inspiration for a better tomorrow.

Time is passing. Is tomorrow coming? The clock is ticking. Is tomorrow coming? I haven’t seen her in a while, I touch her, and I know she is coming. I want her to. I miss the rain…it´s raining. I hear her but I can´t see her. Tomorrow, maybe.