Garden of Words

To pray or long for rain,

so that I can meet the stranger

under the cover of trees,

knowing we only meet in such circumstances.

As the rain stops,

The loneliness returns,

With sunshine to others,

 Sorrow and fog reigns upon my thoughts.

Because I long for the rain,

I long for the stranger who fills my void.

Work, school, projects, I do all this,

to move on, to distract myself.

Because I know I miss her,

But the days move on.

And I cannot expect her to wait for me.

We are of different worlds, different ages.

But was it truly just an emotion of season?

Just a whipping memory that fades with the rain?

Memories arise with questions,

of the stranger which I never asked the name of.

She who looked lost and lonely,

Stuck in time

 Yet started the arms of my clock.

Does she remember me?

Or has my face faded with the rain?