It’s Raining – Letters Unsent #1

It’s raining. I remember you with the rain, seems so synonymous.
I know, that was a long time ago, and I am here, you are not, but the rain brings you to me. I could soak my soul in your rain.
You told me once, you don’t like the rain, however, you find it necessary for life.
We were sitting on a park bench, when you spoke, you never looked at me. My eyes ate you.
So I wanted you to know, though all has changed, all remains unchanged.
I still go to that park, and when I see the bench we sat upon, I am bewildered to find it empty.  We live there, in my memory, yet there that bench remains, empty, yet holding the secret, I fell for you, sitting there.
It sits, judge and  jury, it heard, every word spoken that day. How did that bench stay unmoved, as you had, while every cell of my being transformed?
It’s raining, today, on that park bench. You are not there, love, however, we are.

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