My Friend Rain

A poem I wrote in the 8th grade that I happen to be proud of still.

Here you are, my friend.
I hear the music you make when you arrive with a flutter, tip-tapping on the rooftops, scattered but rhythmic.
Your familiar crisp scent once again luring me through the door of a new reality,
Where I alone understand you, and you me.
I feel your cool touch of acknowledgement,
Pattering upon my skin like eyes darting across a page,
Trying to read my innermost desires.

You too quickly say goodbye, my friend.
Too soon the magical feeling dissipates.
The world stays quiet as I re-enter the noisy realm of my own reality.
But I still see the remnants of your presence,
The dew upon the blades of grass and leaves marking where you tread like footprints,
The mist hanging in the air like one last slow and sorrowful farewell.

Until we meet again, my friend.
Just like every time before,
I will be awaiting the signs of your next visit,
Where I will greet you with open arms.