When it rains hard
I remember you….
with hair painted across
your forehead and eyes
screwed tight against the
onslaught of the weather;
the wet trickling down
your sleeve into your pocket
where your hand holds mine
like a harboured mouse.
Our words drown in the rain
and we give up the struggle
to converse and clamber
further up the hill.
We abandon ourselves to
the elements, arms wide like
children out of school;
we skid and slither to the
foot again, weak with laughter,
wet as fish, but happier.
When it rains hard,
do you remember me?