Our time

Even here the rain sounds different,
As alien as the silent, dusty air,
That creeps in waves through shut curtains,
And locked windows,
Slowly the fat drops,
Trickle down the window panes,
Washing away a past that had somehow,
Become tainted,
A love that was stained,
Every misty breath that clouds the panes,
Unveils new days,
And back to the store room of my mind,
I will return you,
And everything else that reminds me,
Of our time.

~Rei Shiori