The tingle of incipient almost-rain
Begins to prick my skin, and I awake
From dazy dreams of you into the plain
Flat dull reality in which I make
My way. The drips remind me where I am,
What I was doing ere this reverie
In which I found myself began. I damn
Themexist for it, but I cannot easily
Slip back again. I am too present now,
No longer thinking only of your face,
The way it lights up when you smile. I bow
To stern existence, time, and even place,
And make myself remember I'm alone
Watching a raindrop splatter on a stone.
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