by Skyler Lewis
To the rain,
Who dances on my windowsill:
When I struggled, you pushed against me.
Wind’s fists landed hard against my face,
Icy fingers sent chills all down my spine,
Battered, weakened, fatigued by your swift pace,
Water soaked my hair as I sought the dry pine.
You slicked my road, you drenched my home,
Savagely you danced upon my windowsill.
But when I sat alone, you cried with me.
Water drops ran softly down my cheek,
Your constant rhythm lulled me to sleep.
Tenderly you danced upon my windowsill.
And when I ran, you ran beside me.
My feet splashed puddles up into the air,
As your cold pushes kicked me into life –
Your cool elixir washed away my strife.
You refreshed me. You renewed me. I went home
To watch you dance your dance upon my windowsill.
