It fell on the jetty, crackling and heavy, the rain. I suggested we sit under the weeping willow, at least that. She agreed.
It fell on the jetty, crackling and heavy, the rain. I suggested we sit under the weeping willow, at least that. She agreed.
The drops fell steadily. From time to time I became more and more eager to hear the story, and from time to time you granted me this wish, like that night.
In all attempts to hold you my hand was empty. Nobody can be held, you can only stay on your own, and yet you too were driven to me when the rain came to find a place to tell. Didn’t you have anyone else?
You still couldn’t stand it outside of the rain, you still couldn’t stand the warmth, you didn’t want to freeze in front of the fire, this inner image, but perhaps telling the story would help you to be able to do it again. And the rain came. And you came, persevering and unhindered.
