you've left the window open, the door slightly ajar,
and it helps me hear the rain hum.
the sound is so idyllic it almost puts me to sleep.
then you start speaking,
whispering in hushed tones.
and although i barely process the
words in my sleep-addled mind; i listen. i always listen.

"i love the say, peeking through the
curtains. i can almost swear the downpour calms down.
as if it is soaking up the praise
as you soak up its display.

and i wonder why?
rain is temperamental, and inconvenient, and a
nuisance to love.
but with the way you stare at it, in complete awe.
i wonder if you see something i don't.

and when you turn, your eyes filled with the calm
before my storm, your smile– the quiet of my night,
and whisper, "it reminds me of you."

all i can do is listen, listen as the rain adjusts its rhythm
to match the beat of my heart as it sings your name.