I was standing in the rain that night,
soft, light splash on my skin.
Baptism of quiet.
I was standing in the rain listening to the night,
to the simple symphony,
to the rain dance,
to the water singing on the streets.
Streetlamps glow, sulfur luminescence,
spilling on my skin,
seeping into newborn puddles,
stealing over pavement damp and sleeping city.

I was standing in the rain that night,
feeling contrast of warm and cold,
wet chill of water on my arms,
raising little goose bumps,
chasing away the heat.
Summer storm,
wash it all away.
Soft like twilight and slumber,
like candle's flame and first light.
Rain falling long and peaceful,
tears from the sky bathing my face and warming my smile.

I was standing in the rain that night,
waiting for that something to come,
that other thing,
that unknown thing,
that moment I was chasing even without sight.
I waited while the rain fell,
absorbing it all,
every drop dripped,
every splash splished,
and I held my hands out before me
and closed my eyes with lashes damp, smiling into the sky.