A little different from most everything else I write.

I close my eyes,
And listen to the static,
Raindrops on the roof,
Of my car, and I wonder,
Is the sun still shining,
Where you are?

My mind wanders,
Just for a moment,
In the driver’s seat,
Behind the wheel.

Not long ago,
I set foot, off the train,
Back home. It’s rained,
Ever since that day.
I sometimes think,
That town may be
Washed away.

Turn the key,
Ignition, the engine
Turns over, and I shift,
Into drive.

Some nights, I lie,
Awake, and imagine,
You beside me,
A slanted roof above our heads,
As we try to sleep,
One stormy night.

Close my eyes,
Once again. Just this,
Time I fall asleep.
As it rains outside.

-Yeah, this one is kind of strange. First off, I couldn't think of anything to title it, without the word "rain" in it. I write about the rain enough as it is. There's something about rain. You can put any sort of emotion to rain, and it intensifies it. Sorrow, a solemn, stormy night. Tension, a hunter, stalking his or her prey through the shadows, the rain intensifying the tension, and setting a dark mood. Happiness, a renewing, cleansing, cathartic rain, where someone can let go, or two lovers finally kiss.

You can do anything with it.

Second, I messed around, and made it kind of story like. I also broke up the sentences, so it sounds strange when you say it. Well, most of my stuff has a sort of broken tempo.

That's about the extent of it.

--Matt