At the window I wait for the rain to home

you. you return in reflections - in Passing

faces in dreams that forget to end.

I tell myself it's the Weather, not memory

that Keeps you coming. But the glass Jeans

your shape and my breaths draws you bore

Once we stood on this side together; no

I watch footsteps that never choose the

If I turn, you fade. If I stay you almost

speak So I keep looking out, learning

the language of quiet hoping one storm

will finally answer with your name on

every drop I cannot hold

© 2026 Lori Geddes (writing as Lxx). All rights reserved.