Your Kind Of Water

what kind of rain
are you?
she asked me in
a time long forgotten,
in the academy of clouds.
her voice
was rolling thunder,
both soothing and
deliciously loud.

well i am a mere
drizzle to your storm,
i answered,
i couldn't
afford my own puddle,
i am unnoticed
in crowded days on
wet season boulevard,
and i always stay
inclouds
anyway.

and her laughter
was startling, got all
kind of people
jumping,
in the world
underneath us.

it must be nice to be
like that. she said. she smiled.
her translucent wind
tangled with my breeze,
and i knew bliss
in a way no rain
has ever
felt before.

she went her way,
thought i felt
a lightning spark
from her cloud as grey
as a fading night
caress me,
for a moment
ere it was
gone.

and her laughter
was echoing, in my
little cloud,
merely
a breath to her storm.

so what kind of rain
is she,
should someone
ask me;
she is the kind that
rains all day,
in every place where
you ever
blew.


12162005