april showers

i only ever see you when it rains.
and so i wish it would rain
very often, and very soon,
that i might drink you in
and savor your taste
on those hatefully sunny days
when i dry up and wither for lack of you.

on those days,
i am restless and angry
at a world, and a weather
that conspires to thwart my deepest hopes
and fondest dreams,
and has the nerve
to warm my face with mocking rays.

but on days when the sun hides its face
and the skies open
to soak a wind-whipped earth,
life seems so much brighter
that i skip through the puddles
and dance in the water
because i know you are mine.

for it was on a rainy afternoon
that we met,
waiting for a bus that led to nowhere and nothing
and no one but each other.
fate, we said, hugging ourselves
tight against the glass
as water raced lightning-fast down.

and on rainy days
we have shared an umbrella
under a dark sky,
shivering in the spring storms
and kissing in a downpour
that was coursing down our shoulders
and bathing our faces.

and you know
those moments exist only for you and me,
tantalizing and tormenting in their rarity,
and so very, very special to me,
because it was us and it was perfect—
and because you know
i'm only ever happy when it rains.