Poetry Friday: Not Speaking

Not Speaking

The sound of the rain reminds me of you;
one arm around my shoulders, your head on mine.
We are just standing, not speaking,
because you understand how I feel about the rain.
The rhythm is steady, yet unpredictable.
Pat, pat, pat on the sidewalk,
on the roof, on my outstretched hand,
like oceans waves,
or the beat of my heart.
Barefoot on the cold porch, my feet are freezing,
and between the clouds,
one white star is shining bright.

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