upon her skin she wishes the feel of raindrops would linger

for he is like the storm; coarsely gentle and sweltering cold—

and as she tries to grasp the rain; it slips between nimble fingers

now she knows that the scorching wintry rain; she will never hold—


and if the rain shall grow colder still; it would turn to blistering snow

but perhaps then she can embrace what she truly desires so;

yet to seize something so arctic can only serve to melt and bestow

what she has always known—that the rain will not love her also;


and when pure white snow melts and then freezes; it is ice—

for that one moment in time when it liquefied—it could have loved her;

but alas; it did not and now she knew that falling in love had its price

because a young lady with eyes so blue and hair so gold; the rain prefers


perhaps it is time for her to let go and for this; she inwardly cries

because the rain loves another and so; she said her goodbyes