Rain runs down the headstone.
Small rivulets trail down across
the chiseled lettering.
Down past your name,
and into the ground underneath.

My hood is pulled back,
and raindrops soak my hair.
Water runs down my cheeks,
and, kindly, gently, pull
the tears away from my eyes.

Thunder rolls in the distance,
but does not soothe, or bring peace.
Water splashes all around me,
cold, on the asphalt, and in the grass,
and on my bare hands.

I remember when we used to open the door,
and watch the rain wash the world clean.
It would make everything new again,
and the wind was wet against our faces,
and it was all...wonderful.

I could only enjoy the falling rain,
when I was just with you, in my arms.
Everything would be washed anew,
and the thunder would soothe me,
and bring me a new peace.

Now I'm here, kneeling on the wet grass,
and my clothing is soaked by the rain.
I don't feel the cold air on my face,
or hear the rain, falling, all around me,
or feel the wind on my back.

I look at the world beyond the stones,
and all is gray through the heavy, falling, water.
I inhale the moist air into my lungs,
and feel the cold ache deep down inside me,
pulling at me again, and again, and again.

I promise I'll come lay with you someday,
and we'll watch the rain wash the world clean.
It will make everything new again,
and the wind will be wet against our faces,
and it will all be so...wonderful.