The rain fell hesitantly,
Thinking that, maybe, it was asserting itself.
But in its heart of hearts,
It wasn't sure it was welcome here.
It crept down awkwardly from the sky,
Timidly tapping her on the shoulder
And quickly retreating to the anonymity of the glistening pavement.
It whispered her name quietly,
Willing her to pay attention
And calling out here and there pitifully
When she gave it no heed.
"If only she would listen to me,"
Thought the rain,
"If only she knew me for what I am!
"If she could understand what I have to say!"
It wallowed to itself.
But she had listened long enough.
She had felt enough raindrops in her day
To understand exactly their whole beings.
She knew just what they had to say.
She could repeat their messages word for word.
She had been not unlike a raindrop, once.