We did not speak of rain;
only the wish that our love
could be again.
The air was bone-dry,
with only the merest glimpse,
of wispy cloud remnants,
in the sky.
But, our thoughts, hopes and wishes
coalesced to form empty
puffy, fluffy, white cloud receptacles.
That we could seed with intent,
by prying drops, one at a time,
from memories long forgotten
gone bone...
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