And He, The Storm

For someone a wild as a rogue storm.

As I sit, hearing the rain,
Can't help but think of you again,
The rain, it patters, gently drips,
Quite like your drumming fingertips,
Impatient breath with rough release,
Sounds very much like wind unleashed,
Maelstroms brewing in your eyes,
Your smile cracks, and lightning flies,
First you whisper, then you shout,
Thunder strikes, then it fades you,
Your voice, the ocean, strong and free,
And I, a sailor, lost at sea