February Rain

To The Lady on the Train,

I woke early this morning with the sounds of a surprisingly heavy February rain hitting the slant roof over my head. I can hear the steady drip of a still frozen and overflowing gutter outside. The water will be pooling by the fence where it always does in a heavy rain. 

Tha thaw has come sudden and the additional rains will make for flooded yards and streets. 

I lay in bed for a while wondering if you are listening to the rain too. I wonder what the rain sounds like where you are. I wonder if the sounds of your house under rain still sound new to you, or if they have now become familiar. 

I can usually hear the early morning trains, the subway trains in the north and the big trains from the south. Not this morning though. This morning it is the steady patter of rain. What I long to hear is your voice in my ear, your mouth close to feel your warm breath on my cheek.     

I want to hear the sigh of contentment and feel the arching of your back. I want to feel you turning as my mouth trails your spine and around to your hips. I want the scent of you to fill me and to feel the tension of desire under the softness of your skin.  I want to taste you. I want to feel the twisting, a tightness, the release, and the throbbing when it comes. 

I want to disappear under the covers with you, my head on your thighs. I want the rains on the roof to drown out the world. 

The Man in the Station