The Dreaming Rain

on a mild and drizzly afternoon
curled up on the porch swing
my cheek resting upon my wrist
creak-creak, creak-creak
gently swaying
rain pounding down the roof
grey clouds pregnant to bursting
thunder boom, I smile

it’s the aching memories
the timber of your voice
caressing me and
how I long for your body
pressed against my skin and
your fingers threading my hair

as our lips hungrily
clash and join and mold together
our tongues thrusting, slithering
breaths in ragged gasps and sighs
my name, yours overlapping

two become one
nostrils flaring, the scent of us
flesh on ravenous flesh
sliding together just as easily as
the rain slips noiselessly
down the saturated roof

boom-boom-boom
creak-creak sigh

then your voice calls
through the screened window
I smile, new memories to be made
the dreaming rain can wait


tara caribou | ©2022 revised from my original poem “down the eaves”

26 Comments on “The Dreaming Rain

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