The rain’s gentle tapping against the window
reminded him of the delicate sound
of someone secretly typing a letter
and when he heard the squeak of the faucet,
he knew today was the last he’d see of her.
He looked at the ceiling
and then at her pink rubber boots,
before he closed his eyes again
and listened to the concerto on the radio
mix with the sounds of
her shower
and the rain
~ Excerpt from a poem by Matt Kindleman
