My Drought

Let me feel the rain for the first time, May my skin be sanctified with its humidity? Never before had I truly felt its delight, Only have I neglected the privilege. Perhaps the rain will gather upon my shoulders, Quilting my senses with the sound of every drop. Rightfully it could leave my depth dry, Seeking the attention I once denied the rain. Through the intricacies I twirl about, Unable to convince the damp to caress. Vying for its affection I plead quietly, Waiting for the rain to call to me.