Andrew Foreman Poet Prose Poetry

Rain Light

I awoke to the sound of rain,
falling in the way it does,
low sound, all around,
a deep note that holds the world,
so close in wet and darkness,
and I thought of you,
when I used to wake,
warm and dry, next to you,
in the early hours,
when our worlds still met,
and you slept in your careless way,
arms above your head on the pillow,
as if you were falling in your dreams.
I studied your face,
so quiet in rain light,
reflections of drops on the window,
ran down your face like tears,
and I imagined you in that dream,
smiling in a summer dress,
surrounded by happy dogs,
who can't stop running,
crazed with the freedom,
and odors of the world,
I knew then (but not really),
the time would be near,
when the dream would be over,
and daylight was clear,
your tears would be real,
and you would be there,
and I, soon, would 
only be here.

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