Firsts & Lasts

These past few months,
it's been raining frequently,
for these small little nodules of time,
and it's as if I can hear,
every little pitter patter of water,
that graces the sidewalks

During these little nodules,
I have these never-failing urges,
to bring you an umbrella and a windbreaker,
because you've always hated the rain,
but then I remember that,
your body was incinerated,
and shoved into an ornate urn,
and you're not worried,
about getting damp anymore,
because you're just a memorial plaque, 
with your name and dates anyways

Because memories aren't concerned,
about umbrellas and drip drops,
from these seemingly omnipresent downpours,
that have been popping up,
ever since I hugged your stiff body,
for the first and last time