Anthony Blanco

Raindrops

We would stare out of windows,

Watching them race.

 

Each time I hoped to win,

But you always beat me.

 

They would glide gracefully, and skillfully,

They would dance along the windowsill.

 

I remember now, sitting back looking directly into the sunlight.

Waiting. Wishing. Hoping,

 

 that it would rain again.