from day one
she has been a bursting
ray of sunshine
in my storms

to my cold
she is a cover

but she’s my rain

from the start
she masters the art
the craft
the myth
the mix
the math
of romance as a starting point
for friendship pure and true

to my pain
she is a healing touch

but she’s my rain

in an instant
like a flash she comes and goes
knowing well
the delicate confines
and contours
of the give and take
the psycho-emotional geography
of mood like climatological astrology
of when to give him space
and when to drown him
in an embrace

to my loneliness
she is the face

and she is my rain

day and night
dark and light
telepathic combinations
never just saying
words are never just right
she just says
and i write
and i conclude that there is not
a conclusion in sight
i give in
well aware that she always wins
she was never playing
but just giving me
a place
to lose

to my low
she is a resting rock

because she is my rain

she is
to my filth
cleansing waters
to my hunger
warm (oat) meal
to my fear
to my doubt
to my comfort
to my answers
follow up questions
to my sanity
a challenge
to my rants
a rebuttal
never noise
background blues
she will change the channel
she is in control
of the most remote
constantly positioned
to be steady through

and when all is said, done, and documented
and it will be done
and it has been said
she’s on every page
in every line
on every heart
if not every head
this is not romantic
not an appeal or an advance
but merely a frantically typed
letter scribbled in a sometimes rhyme
an ode to the romantic nature of friendship
a stance declared
and I dare
that no one will compare
not one
and it does not worry me
that she is not mine
because i have learned now
before i have even begun
that there is no one
passion is the pathway on every journey
and romance the agenda
to every cosmic collision
regardless of reciprocal
cardiorhythmic precision
i conclude
upon her wishes

to my conclusion
she is a new beginning

for she is my rain.