Rain third position
I love the near silent sound of rain,
Its delicate intricacy secretly overwhelms.
Though it never tickles, as it tenderly trickles,
forever failing to touch my -near parted- lips
That rest, warm, plump and heavy,
Close to the cold crystal of the steamed window pane.
I love the radiant light of rain;
I love its fracturing geometry.
For it glimmers, as it glisten’s
Kaleidoscopically, slicing, in heavy pulsing throws,
To build within me a scented sweet liquid refrain.
Whose melody frees my quake-ridden mind
from the sad, the empty, and the mundane.
I love the frosted benumbing touch of rain;
I love its clear sharpened ability.
For it reverberates, as it replicates,
In a perfect symmetry
With such torrid, vibrant ice bone finger's,
That caress the needy depths that rest,
Yet unburdened from my heaving breast.
I love the fragrant recollection of the rain;
Its wealthy scent is rich in pre-possessing.
Its depths recall images of secret desires
A needy itch, a lust ridden entwine,
Around -and upon- that heavy purple vine,
and then -once sated- simply sigh,
To finally and so very snugly rest,
then warmly feel you upon my chest.
While amongst this gentle pattering;
There echoes from this thundering sky
Words that rise and never die.
...Oh how I wish to God that you were mine....
© Adh 2010 redraft 2016