Saturday storms

It’s raining, a drink of water after parched days. The ground was littered with odd drops,  scattered randomly, before the thunder came and the heavens opened.

The rain always stops me in my tracks. I wait. I watch. I wonder. And my heart aches with some unfathomable feeling that soaks me to my core with a haunting want.

He is the one I think of when the rain falls, shattering itself upon the pavement. A Saturday morning with nothing but the sound of rain, and thunder in the distance. It’s always him I think of  — sitting end to end on a couch, reading. Or, notebooks open upon laps, jotting down something that comes to us, dialogue or a poem. I think of laying in his arms, just listening to the rain, not saying a word. I think of the intimacy of the moment and how completely I want that. I think of how this will never come to pass.

:

Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved

Photograph taken from Pinterest, original source unknown.

Rain

I listen to the rain outside my window

every droplet falling midway between hard and soft.

I get lost in the rhythm

hard

soft

hard

soft

and I imagine every one as you

falling upon my skin

touching me.

Your lips

finding my every curve and hollow

adoring them

worshiping them

like an artist

like a lover.

Your tongue

tasting me.

Your eyes closed as you make that first discovery.

That long asked question

answered.

The hunger to taste more

burning through you

like a wildfire.

The rain makes me think of getting lost in you

of every sensation I can conjure

when your name

crosses my lips.

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from Tumblr

The storm

The storm is upon me.

I watch the trees swaying in the August wind,

thunder cracking like a mighty fist

upon a table.

Lightning flashing in the distance, 

illuminating the evening.

Twilight settling the sky

from day to night.

I watch from my garden door

as the rain comes in swiftly.

The droplets littering the glass,

like a thousand miniature eyes,

watching me

as I watch the storm,

enraptured.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photograph taken from Pinterest

Music of rain

Raindrops have their own music

In this symphony of rain

The initial movement is undoubtedly

Allegro agitato

The rain

Fast and angry

Making a statement

Making an entrance

This eases into andante

But the rain

When there is a storm

Never starts with one tempo and ends with another

There is a continual accelerando and ritardando 

Fast

Slow

Fast

Slow

Until the heavens empty of their anger

The sky clears

And the sun comes out

 :

*Written two years ago but as I watch and wait for the rain it seemed a perfect time to repost.

©SirenSong1208

Photo taken from Pinterest, original provenance unknown.

Rain

I listen to the rain outside my window

every droplet falling midway between hard and soft.

I get lost in the rhythm

hard

soft

hard

soft

and I imagine every one as you

falling upon my skin

touching me.

Your lips

finding my every curve and hollow

adoring them

worshiping them

like an artist

like a lover.

Your tongue

tasting me.

Your eyes closed as you make that first discovery.

That long asked question

answered.

The hunger to taste more

burning through you

like a wildfire.

The rain makes me think of getting lost in you

of every sensation I can conjure

when your name

crosses my lips.

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from Tumblr

 

Bruised sky

This bruised sky

is full of aching and melancholy.

There is electricity in the air

and a distant rumble of approaching thunder.

I wait

anticipating the sky’s torrent of release.

Eager to feel it’s cool kiss

and the sting as it hurtles to the ground

my skin bearing witness to it’s violence

as I am soaked to the bone.

Knowing

that despite the bite of cold in the air

no matter the flood of water

descending from the sky

that the burning tides

I find myself swimming through

cannot 

and will not

be extinguished.

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken by SirenSong1208

The rain looks like stars

The rain looks like stars

In a night drenched in black

The pavement glittering with silver

I breathe softly

The evening air cool upon my lips

I attempt to calm this turbulence

Within myself

To slow

This rapid pulse

A staccato in my ears

And this dizzying feeling

Which consumes me

I am saturated with emotions

With desire

With longing

Conjured up

With the mere thought of you

Artwork “Dancing in the moonlight” by Gilles Grimoin