A Rainstorm
Do you remember that cold autumn’s dawn?
We stood on your porch beneath drizzling rain,
breathing the smell of a brewing storm.
Listening for thunder booming in clouds,
we caught raindrops
on the tips of our tongues:
crisp and sharp.
Shoulder-to-shoulder, we waited for that taxi:
the one to the plane that would carry you
to another world,
another home,
another life across the sea.
Do you remember what you told me?
You swore nothing would change—
that this goodbye was not our last
and the distance was not enough
to make your memory fade.
“Come back,” I begged, and you cupped my face
in the warmth
of your hands.
“Always.”
Do you remember
your first lie to me
beneath the falling rain?
