Awaiting you, not quite
Awaiting you, perpetually certain
I used to get wet, when I could afford
Yet, we have so many to care
The senescent window meets the rain, the rain meets the earth
Who loves the rain?
If you get sick, you’ll get pyretic
If you get sick, stay home
When was it that you needn’t brood about fickle time?
Yet, brewed coffee and papers topple the workbench
The senescent window meets the rain, the rain meets the earth
Who loves the rain?
You come from them; thin cotton strands, stretched across the blue
Grey in visage, hide the sun
You smell of the sea, life in your sphere
Rain, come kiss me
On my freckles
We’ll whirl a frolic carnival
As you weep for the days I shed not
My solace, you are
Rain, come meet me
On my dark circles
We’ll tell tales along slumbers
And dwell on warmth
My poetry, you are
Rain, how do you do? How must you do?
I live under your house, under your enchant
Hope, you’ll fall some tea evening
I love the drizzles in the morning
Until the next window,
My tears that fall down like silver strings tied
Your person of the sombre room, ears awake