Don’t fret, worry or chew your nails
Staring at the rain
Looking for answers—
When there aren’t any,
At least,
None in the rain-streaked pane
Or boiling puddles
Of pain.
Go back to bed and dream
About the first time we met—
How kind I was
And how I always remembered
to whisper your name
Like a sacred incantation—
Then, ask yourself
Was it me or was it you…
Perhaps, it was the mythical Someones
Whom we all know
Can call a game
Simply because of rain.
