Some days he is thunder. And some days he is rain. Thunder more than rain. There are days when he rumbles, when the echoes send tremors through her very being. And then comes rain, unexpected. The torrents wash over her and set her free. Her world is happiest in those misty, sepia toned evenings. Now, she waits, her soul parched. For there has neither been rain nor thunder. It doesn't occur to her even for a moment that her season of glory has ended, that she might never know another one like that. And so she waits, waits, waits. There is no tragedy quite like love that believes in the impossible.

Leaving you behind is not easy
It never was, never will be.
There are moments when sadness,
in all its infinity
weighs me down
and I cannot go forward
for your memories are carved in my soul

Knowing that I cannot change my fate,
I still return to yesterdays
You are still the most vivid memory I have
Strong, defiant, and somewhat flawed
I cannot reach you, and take your hand again
I cannot tell you how much it meant
To have someone like you.

If I could rewrite yesterdays
With penstrokes and wishful thinking
I would still etch you as you were
But maybe I would color your world
In more hues than you ever knew.

And in this moment, I know
I can write tomorrows with my ache
I have in me a lifetime of bittersweet memories
Of knowing that you've cared
I wish to bestow that same wonder
and a lifetime of dreams and love
Before I am gone.