On a July evening I am here again, constructing yet another passionate song about the rain.

The street lights glimmer into a stream of mud water, making all my thoughts widely scatter.

scattered as my heart is; it is filled with stringent lament, would it ever just be my moment?

As I sat there watching puddle after puddle form, the rain turned into a full blown storm

The puddle of water wobbled as I questioned my heart: could love really bring me apart?

The drizzle picked up its tempo; in perfect cold crescendo.

I think of him, with the slithering of the clouds.

I speaks of him, with the poetry of the rain.

I dance to him: with the whispers of the Wind

I reach for him, with the vibrance of the Sun

The sun that he was.