I woke today to the sound of the rain,
Incessantly repeating, an endless refrain.
Soft and gentle, yet somehow unyielding.
Much more powerful than a gale could ever be.
It reminds of our story, so simple yet so sweet,
Like the mellow strumming of a guitar string,
Or the lingering glow of a broken light,
So dim you forget it exists, until it’s not there.
We were like a demure summer breeze,
Or the persistent sound of a rotating fan
You don’t know it’s there until it ends
When the power’s gone, and you’re hot.
We were like the coo of a turtledove,
Mild and sweet as long as it lasts,
Reminding you of silence’s uncanny whisper
When it’s over, and the dove has flown away.
As I was reminiscing so, the rain did end,
Abruptly, like a song in the middle of the bridge.
It left me wistful, that sound of the silence,
The same way you did, when you left me.
Rachel Maria Geo (she/her) is a student, writer and a life-long nerd from India. She writes poetry and stories sporadically as fits of inspiration dawn on her, followed by stormy days of the dreaded writer’s block. You can find her on Instagram, and if you want to read more of her work, check her out on Young Writer’s Society.