The rain... position 1.

I love the near silent sound of rain,
its delicate intricacy overwhelms.
yet it never tickles, as it trickles,
forever failing to touch my -near parted- lips;
That rest, warm, plump and heavy,
Close to the cold crystal, window pane.

I love the crystal light of rain,
I love its fracturing geometry,
For it glimmers, as it glistens,
kaleidoscopically slicing in heavy throws.
To build within,the image of a liquid train…
that works to free my quake-ridden mind
from the sad... and the mundane.

I love the frosted benumbing touch of rain.
I love its clear sharped ability...
For it reverberates, as it replicates
In perfect symmetry…
With torrid, vibrant ice bone fingers;
That caress the twisted depths that rest,
As yet unburdened from my heaving breast.

I love the fragrant recollection the rain,
It’s rounded scent is rich in possessing.
recalling our bodies needy entwine,
Around and upon that heavy purple vine;
and then -once sated- simply sigh...
To finally so very very snugly rest
Amongst the gentle pattering
from the echoes of this thundering sky.