The falling rain is just a whisper to me, 
storms swelling from worlds away,
scattering the earth's patterns below, 
wind climbing through windows and walls.

A soft lullaby caressing your 
ears with a cool touch.

There's still faith here as the season hands itself over, 
flashes in my head of fluttering 
curtains you stood by in the dark, 
waiting for my footsteps nearing 
the front door like I wait for yours now.

Watching tree branches sway, 
brushing and colliding, 
when I listen long enough, 
the sound is like the crackling of low fires.

Your hand would softly squeeze mine in those hours, 
stirring beneath the covers until your head lays on me, 
draping your arm around my side
as a subtle gesture of affection and ownership.

The wind tonight is just a whisper to me, 
storms swelling from another life, 
scattering leaves as they swirl, 
as they twist below to graze 
wet concrete and every home.

A soft lullaby caressing our ears with a faint rhythm.

I still have faith here as the season hands itself over, 
flashes through my head of spooning 
beneath blankets in the dark, 
street lamps glowing along your delicate features, 
as you exhale a slow gust of heated air meeting my bare chest.

When I listen long enough, 
the sound of your breathing drowns out the storm.

Your warmth was an anchor to me in those hours, 
more pure than any other glow or fire, 
draping around me as a gift of love and ownership.

Everything else is just a whisper when you're gone, 
a soft lullaby humming to caress your heart once more.