Rain

Love is the budding of the rose not yet in bloom.
Love is the pale dawn into the gray day.
Love is the waking of the younger and the weaker.

Love is the cool summer rains
pitter-pattering on my roof.
Love is the watery yellow headlights through the downpour
that melted the black from my eyes.

Love is the sky's water that wets my hair back
and pales my awestruck face.
Love is the warm sparkle in your eyes
that morphs into my own.
Love is the perfect press of my lips
against yours.

Love is the necessity of the creatures
of the World.

Love
is the rain that fell on the two that Sunday.