Time-treasured romanticism 
of a soft summer rain; 
stories told 
again and again. 
Gentle pitter-patter 
against window glass
like a teenaged lover. An invitation 
to step outside
when no one knows
where will we go.
Through the city, we walk on water
across the cement. Mind the puddles.
Soaked to the skin, 
our spirits not dampened.
Rain breaks the heat and
maybe even the humidity.
Whether it has,
weather it is,
for a time we forget where we are.
We remember
decades later.
On a night like this
with a rain like that.

© 2021 j.g. lewis