You know how long I’ve dreamt of rain—

You’ve seen me at the window sill,

my forehead pressed against the pane,

waiting for the raindrops to appear.

I saw the full clouds moving in,

and wondered how the rain would feel—

like happy sky-drips on my skin?

or maybe heaven running through my hair?

It came—the flowing, silver dream,

falling veil-like on the green.

It turned the road into a stream,

and all the children ran outside to play.

And I ran, too, to catch the sky

as tiny puddles in my hands.

The air was fresh and sweet, but my

fingers could not find the falling rain.

A sadness crept across my heart—

like shadows of an empty cloud—

the rain so close, but like the stars,

too far to reach across the galaxies.

I felt Your presence by my side,

and looked and saw the nail-scarred hands—

the kindness of my faithful Guide—

holding an umbrella overhead.

You know how long I’ve dreamt of rain—

and yet You thought to cover me.

I would not want to cause You pain,

and so I smile and listen to rain.

 

 

 

 

 

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