Where

The breeze blows rain across my windowpane
Which makes me wonder if it's raining where
You are, wherever that may be. The grain
Shows dark against the woodwork there,
Dyed by the water, and I wonder whether
You're seeing what I see. I cannot tell.
I do not think we share the selfsame weather,
As if by some strange sympathetic spell,
But still I wish for that bit of connection,
That spark that says that you and I are one,
That where we are is nothing but direction,
And when we part there's nothing truly done
For we are still together in our hearts
And somehow that exceeds external parts.